It was a dismal night, dark and starless; the sky was laden with impending storm, and the rector shuddered as he looked forward into the gloom, and contrasted it with the scene of light and gaiety which he had just left. His heart was oppressed with a heavy weight; for he could not shake off the dreadful thought that Josephine--beautiful and accomplished Josephine--whom he had loved with a fervent though unholy passion--was a _murderess_! While hurrying on with rapid strides, his mind tortured by such painful reflections, a tall figure suddenly stood before him, and a voice whispered-- 'Deliver your money, or die!' The rector perceived that the robber had his arm raised, and that he held in his hand a large knife, ready to strike in case of resistance or alarm. Dr. Sinclair was no coward; had there been a single chance in his favor, he would have grappled with the robber, rather than yield to his demand; yet he was slender and by no means powerful--he was also unarmed; and besides, the idea flashed through his mind that the desperado might be of use to him, and these considerations prompted him to speak in a conciliatory tone and manner:-- 'Friend,' said he, 'unfortunately for you I am but a poor parson, and have only about me a few dollars, which I have just received as my fee for uniting a happy couple in the holy bonds of wedlock. What I have you are welcome to; here is my purse.' The robber took the purse, and was about to move off, when the rector called to him and said,-- 'Stay, friend; you are the very man I want to assist me in a dangerous enterprise--one that requires courage, and strength, and skill; if you engage to aid me, your reward shall be liberal--what say you?' 'You must first tell me what it is you want done,' replied the robber. 'I want to break open a tomb in St. Paul's churchyard, and examine a dead body; and to do this I shall require an assistant,' said the Doctor, in a low tone. 'That is all well enough,' rejoined the robber; 'but how do I know that you are not laying a plan to entrap me into the clutches of the law, for having robbed you?' 'Pshaw!' exclaimed the Doctor, disdainfully, 'why should I seek to entrap you? You have only relieved me of a few dollars, and what care I for that! Draw near, and examine me closely; do I look like a man who would tell a base lie, even to bring a robber to justice?--have I not the appearance of a gentleman? I pledge you my sacred word of honor, that I meditate no treachery against you.' 'Enough--I am satisfied,' said the robber, after having scrutinized the Doctor as closely as the darkness would admit of--'when is this thing to be done?'