“Who says that he who waits for vengeance will not sooner or later find a time? Ha! the hour at last is come, when that heart, proud man, which I cannot reach myself, shall bleed profusely through another’s. Let me look back. I remember well the moment when the jury returned my conviction, and the judge, to strike terror into others, sentenced me to eternal banishment, and ordered me to be transported from the dock. My prosecutor stood leaning against the bench, and returned my glance of impotent revenge, with one of supercilious disdain, as a lion would look upon a cur. Thirteen long years I dragged out in slavery--and such slavery, to one, who like me, had known the comforts which appertains to a gentleman’s dwelling! I escaped--reached England--fortune has smiled upon me, and I am wealthy--no matter how the money came--and none suspect me--none know me as a returned transport save one, and with her the secret’s safe. I never can be detected here for, fortunately for me, it was believed I failed in my escape, and was drowned attempting it. Has wealth engrossed my thoughts--has money made me happy? No, no,--vengeance, vengeance, haunt my very dreams! But it was not to be obtained--I dared not venture near the man I hate--the attempt would have been too perilous--I should be known, and if discovered, without the power of inflicting injury, I should be myself the victim, and my ruin would gratify the man I loath. Heavens! can it be true, and is the hour of vengeance come at last? It is! it is! Denis O’Halloran, before a third night pass, the worm you despised and spurned in your hour of triumph, shall sting you to the soul! Now for the means. That Hebrew barterer in blood, who has changed his name and calls himself a Christian--he gave a necessary caution. I’ll follow it--the fewer employed in such a deed the better. Ha, I have it! The body-snatchers--ay--they are the men. I can manage it through Frank.--He was one of them, but the labour was too severe for him. That devil-boy has in that puny frame-work, the ferocity of a tiger, and the cunning of a fiend; he loves mischief for itself, and doats upon a deed of blood. Yes,--the resurrectionists are the men; and they so readily manage to rid themselves of the carrion afterwards. There are three of them--surely enough--all young men, and two of them were pugilists. He is described as tall, active, and powerful, and his father’s son will not be wanting in the hour of danger;--but what is one man to three?--Hark! the street-bell rings--I expect nobody to night!--Hush, here comes the boy.” As he spoke the hunchback entered, and announced that “the gipsy’’ was passing, and wished to speak to Mr. Brown. “Saints and angels! the very person that I want! Show her up. Ay--we need a decoy--in every mischief, woman can be usefully employed.” The announced one entered Mr. Brown’s great chamber, and addressed him with the familiarity of an old acquaintance. “I leave town to-morrow,” she began--