“So,” sneered Gray, “they have looked for me in the cupboards, have they? Well, the keener the search has been, the better; it is less likely to be renewed, far less likely. I wish I could think of any plan of vengeance upon this magistrate, for the misery he has caused me; oh, if I could inflict upon him but one tithe of the agony he has made me suffer within the last hour, I should be much rejoiced. Curses on him—curses on him and his efficiency as a magistrate: a meddling cursed fiend he is to me—I must think, Master Hartleton; some little plan of revenge upon you may suggest itself to me by-and-by?“ Jacob Gray rubbed his hands together, and gave a sickly smile, as he said this. He was about the middle of the staircase, and it was fortunate for him he had his hands on the banisters, or in the intense horror and surprise that suddenly overcame him, he might have fallen down the remaining portion of the crazy stairs. He heard a door open, leading into the passage, from one of the lower rooms, and a heavy careless step rapidly approached the staircase, while a common street melody, whistled with a shrillness and distinctness that was more horrible to Jacob Gray than would have been the trumpet of the angel at the day of judgment, fell upon his ears. Jacob Gray gave himself up for lost. The blood rushed to his heart with frightful violence, and he thought he should have fainted. How he accomplished the feat he afterwards knew not, but he stepped back. Two paces brought him to the cupboard. It seemed like the door of heaven opened to him. He doubled himself up under a large shelf that went across the middle of it; and clutching the door by a small rim of the panelling, he drew it close. Mr. Elias, with his hands in his pockets, and whistling the before mentioned popular melody, passed on up the staircase, leaving Jacob Gray almost distilled to a jelly with fear. Then, when he had passed, Gray thought at first that his best plan would be to rush down the stairs, open the outer door, and make a rush across the fields, leaving Ada to her destiny—but this was hazardous—he would be seen—hunted like a wild beast; and taken! No. That was too bold a step for Jacob Gray. He listened, with heart and soul, to the footsteps that sounded so awful in his ears, and the question arose in his mind, of—should the man, whoever he was, enter the room where he Jacob Gray, had just left, so heedlessly as he now thought, with the panel open, or would he pass on? That was a fearful question. He thought he heard him pause once, and his heart sunk within him. No, he passed on. He was ascending the second flight of stairs leading to the second story. CHAPTER XLVI. The Death of the Elder Seyton.—Albert’s Grief.—The Prophecy.