"You will kill me here upon this spot. You will conceal my corpse in one of the secret recesses with which this den of infamy no doubt abounds. If you have one spark of prudence you will do this, for I swear to you by the stars of heaven that if I ever leave this place alive you shall pay dearly for your conduct of to-night." "You threaten me, Donna Camillia--here!" "Ay, here, though this house were tenanted with murderers. Do you think my father, Don Juan Moraquitos, will spare the destroyers of his daughter's unsullied name?" "Don Juan will believe that which the rest of New Orleans will believe. You will tell your story, but your father, fondly as he may love you, will smile at its incredulity. Your midnight abduction, your being brought hither to a strange house--whose very locality you will be unable to name--your inability to call upon one witness to support your story--all will confirm the scandal; and your father, who, yesterday morning, refused to coerce your wishes, will to-morrow compel you to become my wife." "Sooner than my father should think me the base and degraded wretch you would make me appear, I will die by my own hand, even though the disgrace of this haunt of crime were to cling to me in death; but I will not die without a struggle. Whoever the tenants of this house may be, there may be one amongst them who yet retains one spark of pity--there may be one who would not hear a woman's voice uplifted in distress without one attempt to succor." As she spoke she perceived a gathering look of alarm in the face of Augustus Horton. That look determined her. "Come the worst," she cried, "I will make the appeal!" "Beware!" he cried. "The people here are not scrupulous." "I care not!" she answered. "I can but die!" "But you shall die in silence!" exclaimed the planter, springing toward her, and clutching the hand which grasped the dagger. He was too late. Her voice rang through the building in a shrill and piercing scream. In the deadly silence of the night that sound seemed multiplied by a thousand echoes. It vibrated in the furthest corners of the edifice. To the planter's terrified ear it seemed as if the whole city of New Orleans must have been aroused by that one woman's cry. Desperate and infuriated he snatched the dagger from Camillia's grasp, and placing his hand upon her mouth, was about to bury the weapon in her breast, when the door was broken open by a tremendous blow from without, and three men burst into the room. These three men were Captain Prendergills, of the schooner Amazon, the sailor who had carried Paul's letter to Camillia, and Paul Lisimon himself. "So," exclaimed the Captain, "we're right, are we? This is where the noise came from. What do you mean by it, you thundering landlubber? How is it that a gentleman can't take a fling at the dice without being disturbed by a woman's squeal?" Before Augustus could answer, Paul Lisimon pushed aside the Captain and clasped Camillia in his arms.