The man led the way out of the court, accompanied by our hero. They threaded several narrow streets and alleys, and at length stopped at the door of a large house. "Knock, and demand shelter: admittance will not, I fancy, be refused." "Is there any danger to be encountered?" asked Markham: "not that I fear it—but I am unarmed." "There is no danger. This is the head-quarters of the Gipsies, or Zingarees: they never use the dagger or the pistol. And, once more, remember your promise." "I shall not forget it," said Richard. "But, before we separate, answer me one question." "Speak—and be speedy," returned the man. "In one word, then, why, when you overheard my conversation with the policeman, did you resolve upon making me the confidant of a deed which might send you to the scaffold?" "Because I am proud of that deed," replied the man, grasping Richard forcibly by the wrist, and grinding his teeth in horrible triumph;—"because it is the result of four years of pent-up yearning after vengeance;—because, in avenging myself, I have avenged all who have suffered through that miscreant;—because I am anxious that those who have been injured by him should know the fate that has overtaken him at last." With these words, Crankey Jem (whom the reader has doubtless already recognised) disappeared precipitately from the spot. CHAPTER CXL. INCIDENTS IN THE GIPSY PALACE. For a few moments Richard remained rooted to the spot where the returned convict had left him. He was uncertain how to proceed. Warned by the desperate adventure which had nearly cost him his life at Twig Folly, he feared lest the present occurrence might be another scheme of the Resurrection Man to ensnare him. Then he reflected that the individual who had just left him, had met him accidentally, and had narrated to him circumstances which had every appearance of truth. We have before said that Markham was not a coward—far from it; and he moreover experienced a lively curiosity to satisfy himself concerning the fate of an individual whose inveterate malignity had so frequently menaced not only his dearest interests, but his life. This reflection decided him; and, without farther hesitation, he knocked boldly at the front door of the Gipsies' Palace. Some minutes elapsed ere his summons appeared to have created any attention within; and he was about to repeat it, when the door slowly moved on its hinges. But to Markham's surprise no person appeared in the obscure lobby into which the pale moon threw a fitful light; in fact, the front door was opened by means of a simple mechanism which the porter worked in his lodge overhead. While Markham was lost in wonder at this strange circumstance, the trap was suddenly raised above, and a strong light was thrown through it into the lobby. "Who are you?" demanded the gruff voice of the porter. "I seek a few hours' repose and rest," answered Markham. "Who sent you here?"