Sir Norman recognized the voice with a perfect shout of delight. “The duke, by all that's lucky! O, I'll let you go: but not until the hangman gets hold of you. Villain and robber, you shall pay for your misdeeds now!” “Hold!” shouted the commanding voice of Count L'Estrange. “Cease, Sir Norman Kingsley! there is no time, and this is no person for you to scoff with. He is our prisoner, and shall show us the nearest way into this den of thieves. Give me your sword, fellow, and be thankful I do not make you shorter by a head with it.” “You do not know him!” cried Sir Norman; in vivid excitement. “I tell you this is the identical scoundrel who attempted to rob and murder you a few hours ago.” “So much the better! He shall pay for that and all his other shortcomings, before long! But, in the meantime, I order him to bring us before the rest of this outlawed crew.” “I shall do nothing of the kind,” said the duke, sullenly. “Just as you please. Here, my men, two of you take hold of this scoundrel, and dispatch him at once.” The guard had all dismounted; and two of them came forward with edifying obedience, to do as they were told. The effect upon the duke was miraculous. Instantly he started up, with an energy perfectly amazing: “No, no, no! I'll do it! Come this way, gentlemen, and I'll bring you direct into their midst. O good Lord! whatever will become of us?” This last frantic question was addressed to society in general, but Sir Norman felt called upon to answer: “That's very easily told, my man. If you and the rest of your titled associates receive your deserts (as there is no doubt you will) from the gracious hand of our sovereign lord, the king, the strongest rope and highest gallows at Tyburn will be your elevated destiny.” The duke groaned dismally, and would have come to a halt to beg mercy on the spot, had not Hubert given him a probe in, the ribs with the point of his dagger, that sent him on again, with a distracted howl. “Why, this is a perfect Hades!” said the count, as he stumbled after, in the darkness. “Are you sure we are going right, Kingsley?” The inquiry was not unnatural, for the blackness was perfectly Tartarian, and the soldiers behind were knocking their tall shins against all sorts of obstacles as they groped blindly along, invoking from them countless curses, not loud, but deep. “I don't know whether we are or not,” said Sir Norman significantly; “only, God help him if we're not! Where are you taking us to, you black-looking bandit?” “I give you my word of honor, gentlemen,” said an imploring voice in the darkness, “that I'm leading you, by the nearest way, to the Midnight Court. All I ask of you in return is, that you will let me enter before you; for if they find that I lead you in, my life will not be worth a moment's purchase.”