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“No—I gave them all to Nils; but that stout man pinched my ear pretty hard, I can tell you.” “Here I go,” responded Tellef. He sprang to the tree, gripped the trunk with his knees and was up in a trice. Vigorous shaking. Five big apples thumped to the ground. “Why, some were half-rotten or all rotten, and a good many were bruised”—.

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Soon the policeman came. “You will have to go with me to the police station,” said he to the boys. They tried to explain that Nils had invited them on board, but it availed nothing. “You go with me to the police station,” was the only reply the policeman made to anything they said. Bob was not gagged. Probably his captors were certain that no matter how hard he yelled there would be no one near enough to hear. That being the case, the boy decided that it was useless to wear out his lungs. So he kept his tongue still and suffered in silence. With the utmost caution, the boy laid the burning stick down on the faintly red ashes of the threads and arranged other sticks on it. Then, gently, he breathed over it and the little flame grew and multiplied. Soon it was going briskly, but it was not till then that the load of fear dropped from Bob’s shoulders. It was about this period that Vincent was seized with a disorder which increased so rapidly, as in a short time to assume the most alarming appearance. Despairing of life, he desired that a messenger might be dispatched to inform the marquis of his situation, and to signify his earnest wish to see him before he died. The progress of his disorder defied every art of medicine, and his visible distress of mind seemed to accelerate his fate. Perceiving his last hour approaching, he requested to have a confessor. The confessor was shut up with him a considerable time, and he had already received extreme unction, when Madame de Menon was summoned to his bedside. The hand of death was now upon him, cold damps hung upon his brows, and he, with difficulty, raised his heavy eyes to madame as she entered the apartment. He beckoned her towards him, and desiring that no person might be permitted to enter the room, was for a few moments silent. His mind appeared to labour under oppressive remembrances; he made several attempts to speak, but either resolution or strength failed him. At length, giving madame a look of unutterable anguish, 'Alas, madam,' said he, 'Heaven grants not the prayer of such a wretch as I am. I must expire long before the marquis can arrive. Since I shall see him no more, I would impart to you a secret which lies heavy at my heart, and which makes my last moments dreadful, as they are without hope.' 'Be comforted,' said madame, who was affected by the energy of his manner, 'we are taught to believe that forgiveness is never denied to sincere repentance.' 'You, madam, are ignorant of the enormity of my crime, and of the secret—the horrid secret which labours at my breast. My guilt is beyond remedy in this world, and I fear will be without pardon in the next; I therefore hope little from confession even to a priest. Yet some good it is still in my power to do; let me disclose to you that secret which is so mysteriously connected with the southern apartments of this castle.'—'What of them!' exclaimed madame, with impatience. Vincent returned no answer; exhausted by the effort of speaking, he had fainted. Madame rung for assistance, and by proper applications, his senses were recalled. He was, however, entirely speechless, and in this state he remained till he expired, which was about an hour after he had conversed with madame..