e in a sort of gasp; "let me look at these wretches
first, and understand if I can what my wife has to suffer from her
connection with them."

"Your wife," broke in the father, "what's that to do with it; the
question is how do you like it and what will you do to get us clear of
this thing."

"I will do nothing," returned Mr. Blake. "You amply merit your doom and
you shall suffer it to the end for all time."

"It will read well in the papers," exclaimed the son.

"The papers are to know nothing about it," I broke in. "All knowledge
of your connection with Mr. or Mrs. Blake is to be buried in this spot
before we or you leave it. Not a word of her or him is to cross the lips
of either of you from this hour. I have set that down as a condition and
it has got to be kept."

"You have, have you," thundered in chorus from father and son. "And who
are you to make conditions, and what do you think we are that you expect
us to keep them? Can you do anymore than put us back from where we came
from?"

For reply I took from my pocket the ring I had fished out of the ashes
of their kitchen stove on that memorable visit to their house, and
holding it up before their faces, looked them steadily in the eye.

A sudden wild glare followed by a bluish palor that robbed their
countenances of their usual semblance of daring ferocity, answered me
beyond my fondest hopes.

"I got that out of the stove where you had burned your prison clothing,"
said I. "It is a cheap affair, but it will send you to the gallows if I
choose to use it against you. The pedlar--"

"Hush," exclaimed the father in a low choked tone greatly in contrast to
any he had yet used in all our dealings with him. "Throw that ring out
of the window and I promise to hold my tongue about any matter you don't
want spoke of. I'm not a fool--"

"Nor I," was my quick reply, as I restored the ring to my pocket. "While
that remains in my possession together with certain facts concerning
your habits in that old house of yours which have lately been made known
to me, your life hangs by a thread I can any minute snip in two. Mr.
Blake here, has spent some portion of a night in your house and knows
how near it lies to a certain precipice, at foot of which--"

"Mein Gott, father, why don't you say something!" leaped in cowed
accents from the son's white lips. "If they want us to keep quiet, let
them say so and not go talking about things that--"

"Now look here," interposed M