"Mrs. Condiment, I have lost the key--dropped it down the trap-door. Please ask uncle to send for some one to take the lock off--and don't wait breakfast for me." "Well, I do think that was very careless, my dear; but I'll go at once," said the old lady, moving away. She had not been gone more than ten minutes, when Old Hurricane was heard, coming blustering along the hall and calling: "What now, you imp of Satan? What mischief have you been at now? Opening the trap-door, you mischievous monkey! I wish from the bottom of my soul you had fallen into it, and I should have got rid of one trial! Losing your key, you careless baggage! I've a great mind to leave you locked up there forever." Thus scolding, Old Hurricane reached the spot and began to ply screw-drivers and chisels until at length the strong lock yielded, and he opened the door. There a vision met his eyes that arrested his steps upon the very threshold; the remains of a bacchanalian supper; a man's coat and hat and boots upon the floor; in the midst of the room the great, square, black opening; and beyond it standing upon the hearth, the form of Capitola, with disordered dress, dishevelled hair and wild aspect! "Oh, uncle, see what I have been obliged to do!" she exclaimed, extending both her arms down toward the opening with a look of blended horror and inspiration, such as might have sat upon the countenance of some sacrificial priestess of the olden time. "What--what--what!" cried the old man, nearly dumb with amazement. "Black Donald was in my room last night. He stole from his concealment and locked the door on the inside and withdrew the key, thus locking me in with himself, and----" She ceased and struck both hands to her face, shuddering from head to foot. "Go on, girl!" thundered Old Hurricane, in an agony of anxiety. "I escaped harmless--oh, I did, sir--but at what a fearful price!" "Explain! Explain!" cried Old Hurricane, in breathless agitation. "I drew him to sit upon the chair on the rug, and"--again she shuddered from head to foot, "and I sprang the trap and precipitated him to--oh, heaven of heavens!--where? I know not!" "But you--you were unharmed?" "Yes--yes!" "Oh, Cap! Oh, my dear Cap! Thank heaven for that!" "But, uncle, where--oh, where did he go?" inquired Capitola, almost wildly. "Who the demon cares? To perdition. I hope and trust, with all my heart and soul!" cried Old Hurricane, with emphasis, as he approached and looked down the opening. "Uncle, what is below there?" asked Capitola anxiously, pointing down the abyss. "An old cellar, as I have told you long ago, and Black Donald, as you have just told me. Hilloe there! Are you killed, as you deserve to be, you atrocious villain?" roared Old Hurricane, stooping down into the opening. A feeble distant moan answered him. "Oh, heaven! He is living! He is living! I have not killed him!" cried Capitola, clasping her hands.