In the centre of the table, upon a coffin, sat the Judge of that awful tribunal, arrayed from head to foot in a blood-red robe: he wore no mask--why need he? What mask could exceed in hideousness the countenance of the Dead Man? Sydney was compelled to mount the table, and seat himself before his Judge, who thus addressed him:-- 'Prisoner, you are now in the presence of our august and powerful band,--the Knights of the Round Table, of which I have honor to be the Captain. I am also Judge and Executioner.--The charges I have against you are already known to every Knight present. It but remains for them to pronounce you guilty, and for me to pass and execute sentence upon you. Attention, Knights! those of you who believe the prisoner to be guilty, and worthy of such punishment as I shall choose to inflict upon him, will _stand up_!' Every masked figure arose, excepting _one_! and that one remained silent and motionless. To him the judge turned with a savage scowl. 'How now, Doctor!' he cried in a voice of thunder--'do you dare dissent from the decision of your comrades? Stand upon your feet, or by G---- I'll spring upon you and tear you limb from limb!' But the Doctor stirred not. 'By hell!' roared the Dead Man, foaming with rage--'dare you disobey the orders of your Captain? Villain, do you seek your own death?' '_Dare?_' exclaimed the Doctor, tearing off his mask, and confronting his ruffian leader with an unquailing eye--'_dare!_ Why, thou white-livered hound, I dare spit upon and spurn ye! And forsooth, ye call me a villain--you coward cut-throat, traitor, monster, murderer of weak women and helpless babes! I tell you, Dead Man, your Power is at an end in these Vaults. There are robbers, there may be murderers here--although thank God, _I_ never shed human blood--but bad as we are, your damnable villainy, your cruelty and your tyranny have disgusted us. I for one submit to your yoke no longer; so may the devil take you, and welcome!' Sydney now for the first time recognized in the speaker, the same individual who sought to rob him one night in the Park, and whose gratitude he had won by presenting him with a fifty dollar bill. The Dead Man glared from some moments in silence upon the bold fellow who thus defied him. At length he spoke-- 'Fool! you have presumed to dispute my authority as Captain of this band, and your life is forfeit to our laws. But, by Satan! I admire your courage, and you shall not die without having a chance for your life. You shall fight me, hand to hand--here to-night, at once; the Knights shall form a ring, and we will arm ourselves with Bowie knives; _cut and slash_ shall be the order of the combat; no quarters shall be shown; and he who cuts out his adversary's heart, and presents it to the band on the point of his knife, shall be Captain of the Round Table. Say do you agree to this?'