ked selfishness, evidently brooding over the consummation
of its purpose. For some moments I sat gazing on his face, half
doubting at times if it were really that of Simon Slade. Suddenly a
gleam flashed over it--an ejaculation was uttered, and one clenched
hand brought down, with a sharp stroke, into the open palm of the
other. The landlord's mind had reached a conclusion, and was resolved
upon action. There were no warm rays in the gleam of light that
irradiated his countenance--at least none for my heart, which felt
under them an almost icy coldness.

"Just the man I was thinking about." I heard the landlord say, as some
one entered the bar, while his whole manner underwent a sudden change.

"The old saying is true," was answered in a voice, the tones of which
were familiar to my ears.

"Thinking of the old Harry?" said Slade.

"Yes."

"True, literally, in the present case," I heard the landlord remark,
though in a much lower tone; "for, if you are not the devil himself,
you can't be farther removed than a second cousin."

A low, gurgling laugh met this little sally. There was something in it
so unlike a human laugh, that it caused my blood to trickle, for a
moment, coldly along my veins.

I heard nothing more except the murmur of voices in the bar, for a hand
shut the partly opened door that led from the sitting room.

Whose was that voice? I recalled its tones, and tried to fix in my
thought the person to whom it belonged, but was unable to do so. I was
not very long in doubt, for on stepping out on the porch in front of
the tavern, the well remembered face of Harvey Green presented itself.
He stood in the bar-room door, and was talking earnestly to Slade,
whose back was toward me. I saw that he recognized me, although I had
not passed a word with him on the occasion of my former visit, and
there was a lighting up of his countenance as if about to speak--but I
withdrew my eyes from his face to avoid the unwelcome greeting. When I
looked at him again, I saw that he was regarding me with a sinister
glance, which was instantly withdrawn. In what broad, black characters
was the word TEMPTER written on his face! How was it possible for
anyone to look thereon, and not read the warning inscription!

Soon after, he withdrew into the bar-room and the landlord came and
took a seat near me on the porch.

"How is the 'Sickle and Sheaf' coming on?" I inquired.

"First rate," was the answer--"First rate."

"As wel