"Yes, yes," said the old woman, after some minutes' pause, "all the gold is mine."
The lad heard this sentence, and he now remembered where he was, and what had taken place. He was about to rise, when there was a knocking at the door, and he lay still. It was Vanslyperken. The door was opened by the old beldame.
"Is it done?" said he, in a loud whisper.
"Done!" cried the hag; "yes, and well done. Don't tell me of charmed life. My blows are sure--see there."
"Quite sure, child--and all the gold is mine."
Vanslyperken looked with horror at the stream of blood still flowing, and absorbed by the ashes in the grate.
"It was you did it, mother; recollect it was not I," cried he.
"I did it--and you paid for it--and all the gold is mine."
"But are you quite sure that he is dead?"
"Sure--yes, and in judgment now, if there is any."
Vanslyperken surveyed the body of Smallbones, who, although he had heard every word, lay without motion, for he knew his life depended on it. After a minute or two the lieutenant was satisfied.
"I must go on board now, mother; but what will you do with the body?"
"Leave that to me; who ever comes in here? Leave that to me, craven, and, as you say, go on board."
Vanslyperken opened the door, and went out of the room; the old hag made the door fast, and then sat down on the chair, which she replaced by the side of the fire with her back to Smallbones.
The lad felt very faint from loss of blood, and was sick at the stomach, but his senses were in their full vigour.
He now was assured that Vanslyperken was gone, and that he had only the old woman opposed to him. His courage was unsubdued, and he resolved to act in self-defence if required; and he softly drew the bayonet out of his breast, and then watched the murderous old hag, who was rocking herself in the chair.
"Yes, yes, the gold is mine," muttered she--"I've won it, and I'll count it. I won it dearly;--another murder--well, 'tis but one more. Let me see, what shall I do with the body? I must burn it, by bits and bits--and I'll count the gold--it's all mine, for he's dead."
Here the old woman turned round to look at the body, and her keen eyes immediately perceived that there was a slight change of position.
"Heh'" cried she, "not quite dead yet; we must have the hammer again," and she rose from her chair, and walked with an unsteady pace to pick up the hammer, which was at the other side of the fire-place. Smallbones, who felt that now was his time, immediately rose, but before he could recover his _feet_, she had turned round to him: with a sort of low yell, she darted at him with an agility not to be imagined in one of her years and decrepit appearance, and struck at him. Smallbones raised his left arm, and received the blow, and with his right plunged the bayonet deep into the wrinkled throat of the old woman. She grappled with him, and the struggle was dreadful; she caught his throat in one of her bony hands, and the nails pierced into it like the talons of a bird of prey--the fingers of the other she inserted into the jagged and gaping wound on his head, and forced the flesh still more asunder, exerting all her strength to force him on his back; but the bayonet was still in her throat, and with the point descending towards the body, and Smallbones forced and forced it down, till it was buried to the hilt. In a few seconds the old hag loosed her hold, quivered, and fell back dead; and the lad was so exhausted with the struggle, and his previous loss of blood, that he fell into a swoon at the side of the corpse.