Richmond, and that having business in London,
they intended to remain there for a day or two.
The elder one wrote some letters, about which
they appeared to consult together sitting at a
little table apart. Their manner, as far as
could be called to mind, was easy and cheerful;
they partook of supper; and the younger
one, remarking that it was yet only nine by
the great clock that stood in the room,
proposed to take a short walk, as he said he was
in the habit of doing after supper. They
accordingly went out, and it was subsequently
observed in confirmation of the truth of that
intention, that although they were both
booted and spurred, they left their horses in
the stables. How long they were absent
became afterwards, for reasons which will be
mentioned, a question of dispute. Some
thought the time must have been near an
hour; but it was stated and confirmed by
two persons that a short time after they came
in, it was noticed by some one to be exactly
half-past nine, by the same clock which had
marked the time of their going out.

That night was committed one of the most
singular and terrible murders ever
remembered in the metropolis. Before showing how
suspicion fell in some degree on these two
men, it is necessary to relate the circumstances
exactly as they occurred.

There resided at that time, in Warwick
Street, Charing Cross, a physician, whose
name was Graves. He was a man in the
prime of life, in good practice, and, though
reputed to be of a somewhat stern character,
well known for a man of perfect honour
and integrity. Late on the evening of the
arrival of the two strangers at the Three
Crowns, a man with a whip in his hand, and
carrying a horn lantern, presented himself at
the physician's house, and requested a woman
servant to convey to her master a note that
he had brought with him. The contents of
the note were not known, nor did the servant
observe the handwriting. Mr. Graves, on
reading it, immediately rose from his book,
and desiring his servant to keep burning the
fire in his study until he should return,
ordered his great-coat and hat, and went out
with the messenger. It was a black and
bitter cold night, a keen wind sweeping the
streets and carrying in their faces a cloud of
sharp dust from the frozen ground. A male
servant of Dr. Graves, as he was coming
home, met his master and the man in the
street, and he had observed a hackney-coach
standing at the corner of Warwick-street, in
Cockspur-street. The doctor stopped him to
give some trifling direction, and passed on;
and a moment after the man heard the
hackney-coach drive away, from which he
concluded that his master had hired it to
visit some patient.

The household of Dr. Graves sat up for
him that night ; but he did not return, and
no tidings came of him for several hours.
Some time after he had left home, there
drove up to the door of the watch-house in
Bishopsgate Street a hackney-coach, the driver
of which, who appeared to be in great terror,
informed the watch that he had found in his
vehicle the body of a gentleman, apparently
dead. He stated that he had been hired
about nine o'clock that evening in the
Haymarket by a gentleman, who ordered him to
drive to the corner of Warwick Street. He
then bade him leave his coach there, and
take a letter to one Dr. Graves in that street,
who would, he said, come back with him.
When he returned with the doctor, the same
man was standing in the doorway of the
coach. He made some observation to the
Doctor, who entered, and desired the driver
to go to Barnard's Inn, in Holborn. On the
way, the man who had hired him looked out
of the window, and requested him loudly and
angrily to hasten, and continued in that
position for some time, urging him to speed on
the account of the importance of their
business.

At Barnard's Inn, his two passengers
alighted; and the one who had hired him
giving him three shillings for his fare to that
place, and thence to Camomile Street in the
city, bade him proceed to a certain number in
the latter street, where he was told that a
gentleman would be ready to come away with
him as before. They then went in at the gate
of Barnard's Inn, and the driver left them ;
but when he came to Camomile Street, he
could not find the house to which he had
been directed, and therefore took his place at
a spot in that neighbourhood, where chairs
and coaches stood for hire. But some time
afterwards, happening to look into his vehicle
for a new candle for his lantern, which he
kept in a box beneath the seat, he found a
man still sitting in the corner, and apparently
reclining against the back of the coach.
Much astonished to find any one there so long
after his two passengers had gone, he called
to him, but received no answer; whereupon
he shook him and called to him; but finding
him still silent, and feeling that his arm was
heavy, he raised his lantern, the light of
which was flickering out, and recognised the
features of the Doctor to whom he had
conveyed the note. His eyes were fixed and
staring, his tongue protruding, and his
countenance livid, like that of one who had
suffered strangulation. A subsequent
examination showed the lips were swelled, and one
of the nostrils scratched, as if violence had
been used to prevent his uttering any noise;
his wrists also were marked as though they
had been grasped tightly. The manner of
the murder was immediately discovered. A
thick cotton handkerchief was found round
his neck, still tight and twisted, as if a stick
had been inserted in a loop, and turned
violently; and between the neck and the
handkerchief was discovered a small block of
a hard kind of wood, little bigger than a
marble, which the murderer had inserted for