The place was not more composed than himself; the flame was the noisiest in the world; it crackled and crashed and made horrible shadows on the walls. There were rats under the floor whose gnawings were like human speech, and the old house appeared to settle now and then with a groan as if unwilling to shelter guilt. As he looked down upon the clustering roofs of the town they seemed wonderfully like a crowd of people gazing up at his retreat. All the dormer-windows were so many pitiless eyes, and the chimney-pots were guns and cannon to batter down his eyrie. When night fell upon the city and sea, his fancies were not less alarming. He could not rid himself of the idea that the dead man was at his side. In vain he called upon his victim to appear, and laughed till the windows shook. It was there, _there_, always THERE! He did not see it--but it was _there_! He felt its breath, its eye, its influence. It leaned across his shoulder; it gossiped with the shadows; it laid its hand heavily upon his pocket where lay the unholy gold. Some prints of saints and the Virgin upon the wall troubled him; their faces followed him wherever he turned; he tore them down at length, and tossed them in the fire, but they blazed with so great flame that he cried out for fear. The town-bells struck the hours; how far apart were the strokes! They tolled rather than pealed, as if for an execution, and the lamps of some passing carriages made a journey as of torches upon the ceiling. After nine o'clock there was a heavy tread upon the stairs. It kept him company, and he was glad of its coming; but it drew so close, at length, that he stood upright, with the cold sweat upon his forehead. The steps halted at his threshold; the door swung open; a corporal and a soldier stood without, and the former saluted formally: "Monsieur the stranger, will remain in his chamber under guard. I grieve to say that he is an object of grave suspicion. _Au revoir!_" The corporal retired without waiting for a reply; the soldier entered, and, leaning his musket against the wall, drew a chair before the door and sat down. The firelight fell upon his face after a moment, and revealed to Mr. Plade his old associate, Pisgah! The former uttered a cry of hope and surprise; the soldier waved him back with a menace. "I know you," he said; "but I am here upon duty; besides, I have no friendship with a murderer." "We are both victims of a mistake! This accusation is not true. Will you take my hand?" "I am forbidden to speak upon guard," answered Pisgah, sullenly. "Resume your chair." "At least join me in a glass." "There is blood in it," said Pisgah. "I swear to you, no! Let me ring for your old beverage, absinthe." The soldier halted, irresolutely; the liquor came before he could refuse. When once his lips touched the vessel, Mr. Plade knew that there was still a chance for life.