stairs leading
on the outside. Up Tom vaults, and recognizing Maria's voice,
supplicating for mercy, thunders at the door, which gives away before
his strength. "It is me, Maria! it is me!" he proclaims. "Who is this
that has dared to abuse or insult you?" and she runs and throws herself
into his arms. "A light! a light, bring a light, Cato!" he demands, and
the old negro hastens to obey.

In the confusion of the movement, Keepum reaches the street in safety
and hastens to his home, leaving his companion to take care of himself.

A pale gleam of light streams into the open door, discovering a tall
dusky figure moving noiselessly towards it. "Why, if here bin't Mas'r
Snivel!" ejaculates old Cato, who returns bearing a candle, the light of
which falls on the tall figure of Mr. Snivel.

"What, villain! is it you who has brought all this distress upon a
friendless girl?"----

"Glad to see you back, Tom. Don't make so much of it, my good
fellow--only a bit of a lark, you know. 'Pon my honor, there was nothing
wrong meant. Ready to do you a bit of a good turn, any time," interrupts
Mr. Snivel, blandly, and extending his hand.

"You! villain, do me a friendly act? Never. You poisoned the mind of my
mother against me, robbed her of her property, and then sought to
destroy the happiness and blast forever the reputation of one who is
dearer to me than a sister. You have lived a miscreant long enough. You
must die now." Quickly the excited man draws a pistol, the report rings
sharply on the ear, and the tall figure of Mr. Snivel staggers against
the door, then falls to the ground,--dead. His day of reckoning has
come, and with it a terrible retribution.

"Now Maria, here," says Tom, picking up a packet of letters that had
dropped from the pocket of the man, as he fell, "is the proof of his
guilt and my sincerity." They were the letters written by him to Maria,
and intercepted by Mr. Snivel, through the aid of a clerk in the
post-office. "He has paid the penalty of his misdeeds, and I have no
regrets to offer. To-morrow I will give myself up and ask only justice."

Then clasping Maria in his arms he bids old Cato follow him, and
proceeds with her to a place of safety for the night, as an anxious
throng gather about the house, eager to know the cause of the shooting.
"Ah, Mas'r Snivel," says old Cato, pausing to take a last look of the
prostrate form, "you's did a heap o' badness. Gone now. Nobody'll say he
care."