Nearly an hour had elapsed when he half woke from an uneasy slumber, and strove to collect his drowsy faculties. His sleep had been disturbed by frightful visions. He had passed through a scene of violence on the Common; he had been engaged in a life-and-death struggle with his new acquaintance; he had been seized by unseen hands, and thrown into a vast vault. His brain throbbed and his heart ached, as he endeavored to disentangle the bewildering fancies of his sleep from wakeful reality. He lay with his face to the wall, and the grotesque decorations of the paper assumed ghostly forms, and moved menacingly before his eyes, thrilling him through and through. In a few moments the murmur of voices close at hand aroused him more effectually. He then recollected the incidents of the night, and reproached himself for his wild excesses, and his reckless and imprudent confidence in a stranger. He dreaded to think what the consequences might be, and again became confused with the memories of his distressing dreams. Three facts, however, were fastened upon his mind. He could not forget Glover's singular glance at his roll of bank-notes,--the hesitation to converse about the garrote,--nor the bottle of acid which would "wash away anything." Would it wash away stains of blood? The sounds of subdued conversation again arrested his attention. He listened earnestly, but without changing his position. "Speak softly," said a voice which he recognized as Glover's,--"speak softly; you will wake my guest." Then the words failed to reach him for a few moments. He strained his ears, and hardly breathed, for fear of interrupting a syllable. Presently he was able to distinguish a few sentences. "Do you call this a profitable job?" said a strange voice. "Oh, very fair,--worth about fifty dollars, I should guess. I wouldn't undertake such a piece of work at a smaller chance," said Glover. "Shall you cut the face?" said the other, after a minute's pause. "Of course," was the answer; "it's the only way to do it handsomely." "Hum!--what do you use? steel?" "Steel, by all means." "I shouldn't." "I like it better; and I have a nice bit that has done service in this way before." From Lorrimer's brow exuded a deadly sudor. His heart ceased to palpitate. His muscles became rigid; his eyes fixed. His terror was almost too great for him to bear. With difficulty he controlled himself, and listened again. "Can it be done here?" asked the strange voice;--"will not the features be recognized?" "There is nothing deeply marked, except the eyes," said Glover, "and I can easily remove them, you know." "You can try the acid." "The other way is best." "I suppose it must be done quickly." "So quickly that there will be no chance for any proof."