presented; but by this time numbers had filled the room, Scroop dashed forward and threw up his arm. The ball entered the ceiling--another murder was stopped, but the stayer of his hand paid dearly! With a horrid oath of rage, L'Estrange struck Scroop a murderous blow on the temple with the empty pistol, and felled him to the ground as if he had been stricken by a thunderbolt. The blood welled forth from the wound, and the scene grew terrific. Undaunted still, glutted with gore, like a tiger at bay, stood the desperado. In the cold moonlight and the red glare of lanterns everything took a more horrid aspect. The white figure of Ellen in petrifaction of terror, the Satanic expression of the murderer, the vengeful glances of the assailants, made an awful picture; the worst part was the two forms, one lifeless, and one apparently so, stretched on the ground in a pool of their own blood. For an instant all was deathly still, save the deep-drawn breaths of vengeance. The room was filled with smoke, which gave a misty, awful air to the whole. For a moment assaulters and assaulted stood still. It was not fear that stayed them, but the dreadful vengeance that could not breathe out into actions in the one party, and the rapid thoughts of what must follow next in the other. It was a pause, but for a moment, like the hush in the hurricane, and then it was broken by L'Estrange, who suddenly hit on his plan. With a bound he escaped the Earl, who rushed to meet him, nimbly avoided the Captain and Sir Richard, who, without showing their double conduct, easily manoeuvred so as to let him pass, and doubtless he would have altogether escaped had it not been for the Marquis, who stood at the door, and when he saw him escaping interposed his giant form. Still the desperate man kept on, but it was vain! The fawn might as well have thought to escape the lion, as L'Estrange to free himself from the furious grip with which the young peer seized him! He struck wildly for his face, but the Marquis threw his whole weight and strength on his antagonist, and bent him to the ground. As falls the oak on the sapling, so fell the Marquis on L'Estrange, and in an instant weighed him down. Seizing the prostrate man by his throat, he placed his knee on his chest, and nigh pressed the breath out of his body. Still the vanquished made the most desperate struggles to rise and free himself from the iron grip; as well might the fabled Titans have striven to upheave the AEtnean mass that buried them beneath its rocks! He howled, he swore, his very face grew black with passion and futile efforts to rise! Vain was the struggle; the Marquis had too firm a hold, and as he still knelt on him said-- "It is vain--yield, sirrah! you bearded me once--I have you now by the throat. Be still or I will squeeze the life from your body."