“Then ’tis that miscreant Ellingham who has put me here!” exclaimed Bones, in a tone which showed that he was quivering with rage. “Demon!--fiend!--yes--you are Lord Ellingham--I thought I knew your voice, although you tried to disguise it. At the first moment I fancied--but that was stupid,--still it struck me that it was the voice of Tom Rain which spoke. Ha! ha!” the old wretch chuckled with horrible ferocity and savage glee--“I did for him--I did for him! I sent him to the scaffold--I got him hanged--and now he is food for worms! Ellingham--for I know you _are_ Lord Ellingham--I can have the laugh at you, you devil, although you keep me here!” “Miserable old man,” said the Black, in a tone of deep pity, though still disguised in modulation,--“are you insensible to the whisperings of conscience?” “Yes--now that you are here!” cried Benjamin Bones, his clothes rustling as if with the trembling nervousness of enraged excitement. “You made me sell you these houses--you took them away from me by force, as it were; and now you keep me a prisoner here. It is all through vengeance that you do it--_you_ who pretended to be above all thoughts or intentions of revenge!” “As God is my judge, I harbour no such sentiment towards you!” said the Blackamoor, emphatically. “But will you converse tranquilly and calmly with me?” “Well--I will try,” returned Old Death. “What do you want to say to me?” “To remind you that you are an old--very old man, and that you cannot hope to live much longer----” “Fiend! would you kill me in cold blood!” interrupted Bones, in a sort of shrieking, yelling tone that indicated mingled alarm and rage. “Had I intended to slay you, I might have done it when you were first brought here as my prisoner,” answered the Black. “Rest satisfied on that head----” “Then you do not mean to kill me?” exclaimed Old Death, with all the hysterical joy of a coward soul, in spite of his natural and still untamed ferocity. “Heaven forbid!” ejaculated the Blackamoor. “There--now ’tis the voice of Tom Rain once again!” cried Old Death, evidently shuddering as he spoke. “But, no--I am a fool--you are the Earl! Yes--tell me--are you not the Earl of Ellingham?” “No matter who I am,” was the solemn reply. “If you ask me questions, I will immediately leave you.” “No--don’t go for a few minutes!” exclaimed Old Death, imploringly. “I have been here a month,--yes--for I have counted the visits of your men, who come, as they tell me, every night to bring me food,--and I know that I have been here a month. In all that time I have only exchanged a dozen words with human beings--and--and--this solitude is horrible!” “You have leisure to ponder on all your crimes,” said the Black. “Who made you my judge?” demanded Old Death, with a return of his ferocity of tone and manner. “If you want me to confess all my sins, and will then set me free, I will do it,” he added in a somewhat ironical way.