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“That’s great!” said Steve Whitney. “Now go ahead and spin me the whole yarn.”,

The organ now swelled in mournful harmony; and the voices of the assembly chanted in choral strain, a low and solemn requiem to the spirit of the departed.,

The obscurity of the place prevented Hippolitus from distinguishing the features of the dying man. From the blood which covered him, and from the surrounding circumstances, he appeared to be murdered; and the count had no doubt that the men he beheld were the murderers. The horror of the scene entirely overcame him; he stood rooted to the spot, and saw the assassins rifle the pockets of the dying person, who, in a voice scarcely articulate, but which despair seemed to aid, supplicated for mercy. The ruffians answered him only with execrations, and continued their plunder. His groans and his sufferings served only to aggravate their cruelty. They were proceeding to take from him a miniature picture, which was fastened round his neck, and had been hitherto concealed in his bosom; when by a sudden effort he half raised himself from the ground, and attempted to save it from their hands. The effort availed him nothing; a blow from one of the villains laid the unfortunate man on the floor without motion. The horrid barbarity of the act seized the mind of Hippolitus so entirely, that, forgetful of his own situation, he groaned aloud, and started with an instantaneous design of avenging the deed. The noise he made alarmed the banditti, who looking whence it came, discovered the count through the casement. They instantly quitted their prize, and rushed towards the door of the room. He was now returned to a sense of his danger, and endeavoured to escape to the exterior part of the ruin; but terror bewildered his senses, and he mistook his way. Instead of regaining the arch-way, he perplexed himself with fruitless wanderings, and at length found himself only more deeply involved in the secret recesses of the pile.,

It was weeks before there came a break in the monotony of his work. He had forced himself to be cheerful about his stupid job and not to show by the least sign that he was not entirely content with the work he had been set to do. Mr. Taylor, who since the advent of the Chief, had taken charge of the office work, spoke to Mr. Whitney. “That boy, Hazard, is a good lad,” he said. “Although the plucky beggar won’t own up, I think he is eating his heart out at the draughting board. I can get along without him, so give him a chance outside if you can.”

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“It is horrid, but”—great searching first in one pocket of his trousers, then in the other—“but if you will please take this report back”—,

Carlstrom was a Swede, with a big black moustache whose ends stuck straight out in the air. He looked exactly like a stylish colonel to say the least—a very cross colonel though! No, there was no use going to the stable.,

“We’d better hurry back,” he said, “and send someone after the Greaser. He’s dangerous.” And without further words the two set forth.,

Bob was surprised when he saw the man roll a cigarette and coolly light it. This display of unconcern as to whether or not he was observed, did not fit in with the dodging tactics he had employed when coming up the hill. Then the explanation came in a flash. Surely the spot had been chosen on account of the clear space around it and the impossibility of anyone’s coming upon it unobserved. The man had dodged on his way up because he did not want to be recognized by a prowling night watchman. Once he had arrived, no one could get near enough to be dangerous.