and boots upon the floor; in the midst of the room the great, square,
black opening; and beyond it standing upon the hearth, the form of
Capitola, with disordered dress, dishevelled hair and wild aspect!

"Oh, uncle, see what I have been obliged to do!" she exclaimed,
extending both her arms down toward the opening with a look of blended
horror and inspiration, such as might have sat upon the countenance of
some sacrificial priestess of the olden time.

"What--what--what!" cried the old man, nearly dumb with amazement.

"Black Donald was in my room last night. He stole from his concealment
and locked the door on the inside and withdrew the key, thus locking me
in with himself, and--" She ceased and struck both hands to her face,
shuddering from head to foot.

"Go on, girl!" thundered Old Hurricane, in an agony of anxiety.

"I escaped harmless--oh, I did, sir--but at what a fearful price!"

"Explain! Explain!" cried Old Hurricane, in breathless agitation.

"I drew him to sit upon the chair on the rug, and"--again she shuddered
from head to foot, "and I sprang the trap and precipitated him to--oh,
heaven of heavens!--where? I know not!"

"But you--you were unharmed?"

"Yes--yes!"

"Oh, Cap! Oh, my dear Cap! Thank heaven for that!"

"But, uncle, where--oh, where did he go?" inquired Capitola, almost
wildly.

"Who the demon cares? To perdition. I hope and trust, with all my heart
and soul!" cried Old Hurricane, with emphasis, as he approached and
looked down the opening.

"Uncle, what is below there?" asked Capitola anxiously, pointing down
the abyss.

"An old cellar, as I have told you long ago, and Black Donald, as you
have just told me. Hilloe there! Are you killed, as you deserve to be,
you atrocious villain?" roared Old Hurricane, stooping down into the
opening.

A feeble distant moan answered him.

"Oh, heaven! He is living! He is living! I have not killed him!" cried
Capitola, clasping her hands.

"Why, I do believe you are glad of it!" exclaimed Old Hurricane, in
astonishment.

"Oh, yes, yes, yes! For it was a fearful thought that I had been
compelled to take a sacred life! to send an immortal soul unprepared to
its account!"

"Well! his neck isn't broken, it appears, or he couldn't groan; but I
hope and trust every other bone in his body is! Mrs. Condiment, mum!
I'll trouble you to put on your bonnet and walk to Ezy's and tell him
to come here directly! I must send for the constable," said