"Listen! I have a secret to tell you,--a secret that intimately concerns yourselves. It is a fearful one. You would give all you possess--your wealth, your very lives--rather than not know it. I can tell it to you; _but not now_. All the tortures of the Inquisition could not drag it out of me. Nay, you need not smile. If you did torture me _before_ I told you this secret, that would have the effect of rendering my information useless to you. Nothing could then save you. I must be left alone with my friend for an hour. Go! You may leave us chained; you may lock and bar your door; you may watch and guard the house; but go, leave us. Much--too much--valuable time has been already lost. Come back in one hour," (here I pulled out my watch),--"in one hour and three minutes and five seconds, exactly; not sooner. Go! quick! as you value your lives, your families, your property. And hark, in your ear," (here I glared at them like a maniac, and sank my voice to a deep hoarse whisper), "as you value the very existence of your slaves, go, leave us instantly, and return at the hour named!" The men were evidently overawed by the vehemence of my manner and the mysterious nature of my remarks. Without uttering a word they withdrew, and locked the door behind them. Happily they left the torches. As soon as they were gone I threw my arms round my comrade's neck, and, resting my head on his shoulder, bemoaned our sad lot. "Dear, dear Jack, have they hurt you?" "Oh! nothing to speak of. But I say, Bob, my boy, what on earth can this monstrous secret be? It must be something very tremendous?" "My poor Jack," said I, regardless of his question, "your thumbs are bruised and bleeding. Oh that I should have lived to bring you to this!" "Come, come, Bob, enough of that. They _are_ a little soreish, but nothing to what they would have been had you not stopped them. But, I say, what _is_ this secret? I'm dying to know. My dear boy, you've no idea how you looked when you were spouting like that. You made my flesh creep, I assure you. Come, out with it; what's the secret?" I felt, and no doubt looked, somewhat confused. "Do you know, Jack," said I, solemnly, "I have no secret whatever!" Jack gasped and stared-- "No secret, Bob!" "Not the most distant shadow of one." Jack pulled out his watch, and said in a low voice-- "Bob, my boy, we have just got about three-quarters of an hour to live. When these villains come back, and find that you've been humbugging them, they'll brain us on the spot, as sure as my name is John Brown and yours is Robert Smith--romantic names, both of 'em; especially when associated with the little romance in which we are now involved. Ha! ha! ha!" I shrank back from my friend with the terrible dread, which had more than once crossed my mind, that he was going mad. "Oh, Jack, don't laugh, pray. Could we not invent some secret to tell them?" "Not a bad idea," returned my friend, gravely.