But Arthur held fast the false clergyman's arm. "I will never leave you," he said. "Keep your appointment, I will witness it. It will be very interesting to know what business it is, that can bring you to this unfinished church at the hour of four in the morning." Barnhurst set his teeth together in silent rage. "You cannot,--cannot,--" he began. "Not a word," sternly interrupted Dermoyne. "Go in and keep your appointment like a man of your word." Barnhurst led the way, and they passed under heavy piles of scaffolding into the dark church. Dark indeed, and unenlivened by a single ray of light. All around was silent as the grave. The profound stillness was well calculated to strike the heart with awe, and Arthur and Barnhurst, as they groped their way along, did not utter a word. "Here, near the third pillar, I am to meet him," whispered Barnhurst. "Give me your left hand, then; I will conceal myself behind the pillar, and hold you firmly, while you converse with your friend." Herman, in the thick darkness, placed himself against the pillar, and Dermoyne, firmly grasping his left hand, crept behind it. Thus they stood for many minutes, awaiting the approach of Herman's friend. In the dark and stillness those moments seemed so many ages. A bell, striking the hour of four, resounded over the city. At length a step was heard, and then a faint cough,-- "Are you here?" said a voice; and Dermoyne, from his place of concealment, beheld a dimly-defined figure approach the third pillar. "I am," answered Barnhurst. "Who are you?" said the voice of the unknown. "I am Herman Barnhurst."--His voice was low but distinct. "How shall I know that you are the Barnhurst whom I seek?" asked the unknown. There was a pause. Barnhurst seemed to hesitate: "'_The Night of the Tenth of November,_ 1842,'" he said, and his voice trembled. "Right; you are the man," said the unknown. "Did you receive a letter last evening?" "I did,"--and Barnhurst's voice was very faint. "How was that letter signed, and to what did it refer?" Again Barnhurst hesitated. Arthur felt the hand which he held grow hot and cold by turns. "It was signed by 'THE THREE,"' he replied in a faltering voice--"and referred to an event which _it assumes_ took place on the night of the tenth of November, 1842." "'_Assumes_!'" echoed the unknown, with a faint laugh. "You think it an _assumption_, do you? Well, I like that. And the letter requested you to meet one of the 'Three,' at this place, at the hour of four this morning; and it concluded by stating that you would hear something of great interest to yourself in regard to the _events of that night_." "It did," faintly responded Barnhurst. "I am here, and--"