“As if it ever was worth it,” said Sir Norman, contemptuously. “On with you, and be thankful I don't save your companions the trouble, by making an end of you where you stand.” “Rush along, old fellow,” suggested Hubert, giving him another poke with his dagger, that drew forth a second doleful howl. Notwithstanding the darkness, Sir Norman discovered that they were being led in a direction exactly opposite that by which he had previously effected an entrance. They were in the vault, he knew, by the darkness, though they had descended no staircase, and he was just wondering if their guide was not meditating some treachery by such a circuitous route, when suddenly a tumult of voices, and uproar, and confusion, met his ear. At the same instant, their guide opened a door, revealing a dark passage, illuminated by a few rays of light, and which Sir Norman instantly recognized as that leading to the Black Chamber. Here again the duke paused, and turned round to them with a wildly-imploring face. “Gentlemen, I do conjure you to let me enter before you do! I tell you they will murder me the very instant they discover I have led you here!” “That would be a great pity!” said the count; “and the gallows will be cheated of one of its brightest ornaments! That is your den of thieves, I suppose, from which all this uproar comes?” “It is. And as I have guided you safely to it, surely I deserve this trifling boon.” “Trifling, do you call it,” interposed Sir Norman, “to let you make your escape, as you most assuredly will do the moment you are out of our sight! No, no; we are too old birds to be caught with such chaff; and though the informer always gets off scot-free, your services deserve no such boon; for we could have found our way without your help! On with you, Sir Robber; and if your companions do kill you, console yourself with the thought that they have only anticipated the executioner by a few days!” With a perfectly heart-rending groan, the unfortunate duke walked on; but when they reached the archway directly before the room, he came to an obstinate halt, and positively refused to go a step farther. It was death, anyway, and he resisted with the courage of desperation, feeling he might as well die there as go in and be assassinated by his confederates, and not even the persuasive influence of Hubert's dagger could prevail on him to budge an inch farther. “Stay, then!” said the count, with perfect indifference. “And, soldiers, see that he does not escape! Now, Kingsley, let us just have a glimpse of what is going on within.” Though the party had made considerable noise in advancing, and had spoken quite loudly in their little animated discussion with the duke, so great was the turmoil and confusion within, that it was not heeded, or even heard. With very different feelings from those with which he had stood there last, Sir Norman stepped forward and stood beside the count, looking at the scene within.