The Captain turned and walked ahead sullenly. "It's all very well to laugh," said the Doctor, in a cheerful tone; "but suppose those devils behind us shoot us." "I think if they intended to do that the Captain would not walk in front. No, they want to take us alive, and make us pay a heavy ransom." After this the Club kept up an incessant chatter. They talked over their situation, but could as yet decide upon nothing. It grew dark at length. The sun went down. The usual rapid twilight came on. "Dick," said the Doctor, "when it gets dark enough I'll give you my pistol, so that you may show off with it as if it were yours." "All right, my son," said Dick. Shortly after, when it was quite dark, the Doctor slipped the pistol into the side-pocket of Dick's coat. At length a light appeared before them. It was an old ruin which stood upon an eminence. Where they were not a soul of them could tell. Dick declared that he smelt salt water. The light which they saw came from the broken windows of a dilapidated hall belonging to the building. They went up some crumbling steps, and the Captain gave a peculiar knock at the door. A woman opened it. A bright light streamed out. Dick paused for a moment, and took the Doctor's pistol, from his pocket. He held it up and pretended to arrange the chamber. Then he carelessly put it in his pocket again. "You haven't bound them?" said the woman who opened the door to the Captain. "Meaning us, my joy?" said Buttons, in Italian. "Not just yet, I believe, and not for some time. But how do you all do?" The woman stared hard at Buttons, and then at the Captain. There were eight or ten women here. It was a large hall, the roof still entire, but with the plaster all gone. A bright fire burned at one end. Torches burned around. On a stool near the fire was a familiar form--a portly, well-fed form--with a merry face--a twinkle in his eye--a pipe in his mouth--calmly smoking--apparently quite at home though his feet were tied--in short, Mr. Figgs. "Figgs, my boy!" One universal shout and the Club surrounded their companion. In an instant Buttons cut his bonds. "Bless you--bless you, my children!" cried Figgs. "But how the (Principal of Evil) did you get here? These are brigands. I've just been calculating how heavy a bill I would have to foot." The brigands saw the release of Figgs, and stood looking gloomily at the singular prisoners, not quite knowing whether they were prisoners or not, not knowing what to do. Each member of the Club took the most comfortable seat he could find near the fire, and began talking vehemently. Suddenly Buttons jumped up. "A thousand pardons--I really forgot that there were ladies present. Will you not sit here and give us the honor of your company?" He made a profound bow and looked at several of them. They looked puzzled, then pleased; then they all began to titter. "Signor makes himself very much at home," said one, at length.