arm raised the dishevelled nephew
head-downward in his arms, and impatiently conveyed him from the heated
room and house to the coolest retreat he could think of. There
depositing him, and, in his hurry, the umbrella also, to sleep off,
under reviving atmospheric influences, the unseemly effect of the
evening's banquet, he had gone back on both sides of the road to his
boarding-house, and, with his boots upon the pillow, sunk into an
instantaneous sleep of unfathomable depth. Dreaming, towards morning,
that he was engaging a large boa-constrictor in single combat, and
struggling energetically to restrain the ferocious reptile from getting
into his boots, he had suddenly awakened, with a crash, upon the
floor--to miss his umbrella and nephew, to forget where he had put them,
and to fly to Gospeler's Gulch with incoherent charges of larceny and
manslaughter. All this he could now vaguely recall, his present
psychological condition, or trance-state, being the same as then; and
was going entrancedly back to the hiding-place where, with the best of
motives, he had forgetfully left the two objects dearest to him in life.

On, then, proceeded the Ritualistic organist in the tawny light of the
black leopard's eye: his stealthy follower trailing closely after in the
shade of the roadside trees where the star-spotted leopard's black paws
were plunged deepest. On he went, in zig-zag profusion of steps and
occasional high skips over incidental shadows of branches which he for
snakes, until the Pauper Burial Ground was reached, and MCLAUGHLIN'S
hidden subterranean retreat therein attained. It was the same weird spot
to which he had been brought by Old MORTARITY on the wintry night of
their unholy exploring party; and, without appearing to be surprised
that the entrance to the excavation was open, he eagerly descended by
the rickety step-ladder, and held himself steady by the latter while
throwing the light of his lantern around the mouldy walls.

His immediate hiccup, provoked by the dampness of the situation, was
answered by a groan, which, instead of being solid, was very hollow;
and, as he peered vivaciously forward behind his extended lantern, there
advanced from a far corner--O, woeful man! O, thrice unhappy uncle!--the
spectral figure of the missing EDWIN DROOD!

After a moment's inspection of the apparition, which paused terribly
before him with hand hidden in breast, Mr. BUMSTEAD placed his lantern
upon a step of the ladde