a pair of horse-pistols, and as this recollection flashed upon him, the pause of deliberation ceased. With a swift step he descended the first flight of stairs, and pausing at the chamber door of the faithful couple, knocked upon its panels with a loud and hasty summons. The second repetition of the noise produced the sentence, uttered in a very trembling voice, of "Who's there?" "It is I, Clarence Linden," replied our hero; "lose no time in opening the door." This answer seemed to reassure the valorous stock-jobber. He slowly undid the bolt, and turned the key. "In Heaven's name, what do you want, Mr. Linden?" said he. "Ay," cried a sharp voice from the more internal recesses of the chamber, "what do you want, sir, disturbing us in the bosom of our family and at the dead of night?" With a rapid voice, Clarence repeated what he had seen, and requested the broker to accompany him to Talbot's house, or at least to lend him his pistols. "He shall do no such thing," cried Mrs. Copperas. "Come here, Mr. C., and shut the door directly." "Stop, my love," said the stock-jobber, "stop a moment." "For God's sake," cried Clarence, "make no delay; the poor old man may be murdered by this time." "It's no business of mine," said the stock-jobber. "If Adolphus had not broken the rattle I would not have minded the trouble of springing it; but you are very much mistaken if you think I am going to leave my warm bed in order to have my throat cut." "Then give me your pistols," cried Clarence; "I will go alone." "I shall commit no such folly," said the stock-jobber; "if you are murdered, I may have to answer it to your friends and pay for your burial. Besides, you owe us for your lodgings: go to your bed, young man, as I shall to mine." And, so saying, Mr. Copperas proceeded to close the door. But enraged at the brutality of the man and excited by the urgency of the case, Clarence did not allow him so peaceable a retreat. With a strong and fierce grasp, he seized the astonished Copperas by the throat, and shaking him violently, forced his own entrance into the sacred nuptial chamber. "By Heaven," cried Linden, in a savage and stern tone, for his blood was up. "I will twist your coward's throat, and save the murderer his labour, if you do not instantly give me up your pistols." The stock-jobber was panic-stricken. "Take them," he cried, in the extremest terror; "there they are on the chimney-piece close by." "Are they primed and loaded?" said Linden, not relaxing his gripe. "Yes, yes!" said the stock-jobber, "loose my throat, or you will choke me!" and at that instant, Clarence felt himself clasped by the invading hands of Mrs. Copperas. "Call off your wife," said he, "or I will choke you!" and he tightened his hold, "and tell her to give me the pistols."