'Not so fast, old dead face,' cried Simon, who was a brave fellow, and had by this time recovered all his courage--'perhaps you mightn't find it so easy to murder me, as you imagine. Once for all, I'll see you d----d before I will tell you where the ladies have gone.' The Dead Man smiled grimly as he surveyed the slight form of the footman; then, in a fierce tone, he demanded-- 'Are you mad?--Do you want to rush on headlong to ruin and death? Do you know me? I am one whose awful presence inspires fear in my friends, consternation in my foes. Puny wretch, will you give me the required information, ere I crush you as a worm?' 'No!' replied Simon, decidedly. 'Bah! I shall have work here,' said the other, calmly: then he sprung upon the footman, who, altogether unprepared for so sudden an attack, could make but a feeble resistance, especially in the grasp of a man who possessed more than twice his strength. The struggle was brief, for the Dead Man handled him as easily as if he were a child. Soon he was gagged and bound fast to a chair;--then the miscreant, with a diabolical grin, thrust the poker into the fire, and when it became red-hot, he drew it forth, saying-- 'I have found a way to loosen your tongue, d----n you! When you get ready to answer my question, nod your head, and the torture shall cease.' The monster applied the iron to various parts of his victim's body, burning through the clothes, and deep into the flesh. Simon winced with intense torture, yet he did not give the designated sign in token of submission until the skin was entirely burnt from his face, by the fiery ordeal. Then the Dead Man removed the gag from his mouth, and asked-- 'Where have the Franklin ladies gone, you infernal, obstinate fool?' 'To Boston,' gasped the miserable young man, and fainted. Ah! Simon, thy faithfulness to thy worthless mistress was worthy of a better cause! 'Boston, hey?' growled the villain--'then, by G----, I must go to Boston, too. Ah, I'm not at all surprised at their selecting that city for their place of refuge--for it is the abode of hypocrisy and lust; and they no doubt anticipate reaping a rich harvest there. But ere I depart for that virtuous and Christian city, I must finish my business here. And first to silence this fool's tongue forever!' He drew forth his deadly knife, and plunged it up to the hilt in his victim's throat. With scarce a groan or struggle, poor Simon yielded his spirit into the hands of his Maker. The murderer viewed his appalling work with satisfaction. His eyes seemed to feast upon the purple stream that gushed from the wound, and stained the carpet. It seemed as if, in the ferocity of his soul, he could have _drank_ the gory flood! 'Would that the human race had but one single throat, and I could cut it at a stroke,' he cried, adopting the sentiment of another: then, taking a lamp, he left the room, with the intention of exploring the house.