lazing wood fire that lighted up the whole room
brightly, glowing on the crimson curtains of the bed and the crimson
hangings of the windows opposite and flashing upon the high mirror
between them.

Capitola, having secured her room in every way, stood before her
dressing bureau and began to take off her collar, under sleeves and
other small articles of dress. As she stood there her mirror,
brilliantly lighted up by both lamp and fire, reflected clearly the
opposite bed, with its warm crimson curtains, white coverlet and little
Pitapat flitting from post to post as she tied back the curtains or
smoothed the sheets.

Capitola stood unclasping her bracelets and smiling to herself at the
reflected picture--the comfortable nest in which she was so soon to curl
herself up in sleep. While she was smiling thus she tilted the mirror
downwards a little for her better convenience, and, looking into it
again----

Horror! What did she see reflected there? Under the bed a pair of
glaring eyes watching her from the shadows!

A sick sensation of fainting came over her; but, mastering the weakness,
she tilted the glass a little lower, until it reflected all the floor,
and looked again.

Horror of horrors there were three stalwart ruffians, armed to the
teeth, lurking in ambush under her bed!

The deadly inclination to swoon returned upon her; but with a heroic
effort she controlled her fears and forced herself to look.

Yes, there they were! It was no dream, no illusion, no nightmare--there
they were, three powerful desperadoes armed with bowie knives and
revolvers, the nearest one crouching low and watching her with his
wolfish eyes, that shone like phosphorus in the dark.

What should she do? The danger was extreme, the necessity of immediate
action imminent, the need of perfect self-control absolute! There was
Pitapat flitting about the bed in momentary danger of looking under it!
If she should their lives would not be worth an instant's purchase!
Their throats would be cut before they should utter a second scream! It
was necessary, therefore, to call Pitapat away from the bed, where her
presence was as dangerous as the proximity of a lighted candle to an
open powder barrel!

But how to trust her voice to do this? A single quaver in her tones
would betray her consciousness of their presence to the lurking robbers
and prove instantly fatal!

Happily Capitola's pride in her own courage came to her aid.

"Is it possible,