“I killed him. The light would betray us. " "Impossible!" rejoined his mother. A few bricks, dislodged probably by his last descent, came clattering down the chimney, and as it was perfectly dark, gave him the notion that some one was endeavouring to force an entrance into the room. Still, one never could tell. My Mom inherited our house from our Grandma, otherwise they never could have afforded it, not even twenty years ago. But this wild scheme was speedily abandoned; and, nerved by despair, the carpenter resolved to hazard an attempt, from the execution, almost from the contemplation, of which he had hitherto shrunk. This is simply a chapter of coincidences.
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