“Well, I don’t mind telling you, if it will be any satisfaction,” replied the villain, with a malicious sparkle in his eye. “His agony, at this moment, is almost equal to yours; for he is a prisoner within these very vaults, and not a dozen yards from your own cell, but his life shall be spared. When my nephew and myself have settled everything to our own satisfaction, then he can go free.” “And what is to become of me?” asked Mr. Ellerton, fixing his eye firmly upon his foe. “You,” he hissed, with a furious expression—“you shall die!” “Fiend!—for none but a fiend could conceive so vile a plot—you dare not do this dreadful thing!” Mr. Ellerton grew white to his very lips, while a spasmodic quiver ran over his frame at the thought. Squire Moulton laughed a low, taunting laugh. “You will never do what you propose,” at length Mr. Ellerton said, in a firm, even tone. “Something will occur to prevent the perpetration of such a crime. But be that as it may, you shall not rob my boy of his name, his honor, and his pride. His fortune is not of so much account, for he can carve out his own. You shall have it, every penny, for I have it nearly all with me, only grant my boy this one boon. Oh, if there is one drop of mercy in your heart, do not deny me this one request. Promise me, promise me, and I will yield up everything else, even to my very life.” But the poor man might as well have pleaded to the cold and silent walls. He noted the greedy sparkle in the squire’s eyes, when he mentioned his having his fortune with him, and realized that his pleadings were vain. “Oh, ho! I thank you for your most generous offer,” was his reply. “But I intend to have the fortune anyway. It was partly for this that I came to see you to-day. I must have it before I leave this place, together with that paper we spoke of; and—listen”—he hissed the words from between his teeth—“the next time I come, I promise you that you shall go to join your long-lost and much-loved wife.” “Craven, is not your soul already black enough?” “Ha! I must hunt you to death, or my triumph will not be complete. Come, now, hand over your funds, for I must hasten to other matters.” “Never, sir! You will never get them from me until you take them from my dead body, and that, I warn you, will never be, for—villain, you die!” Mr. Ellerton had spoken with a calm, defiant air, and as he muttered the last words he hastily pulled a pistol from his breast, and leveling it at his enemy, fired! Just an instant too late! for Squire Moulton darted like a flash to one side, and the ball sped harmlessly across the narrow passage, and flattened itself against the impenetrable rock beyond. Mr. Ellerton then drew another pistol from its hiding-place, and calmly awaited what should follow. Squire Moulton, from his position of safety, realized the danger he should be in if he revealed himself, and taking a silver whistle from his pocket he blew it.