him. He heard the quick jar, the withdrawing bolt,
that gave him admittance, as though it were a spectral voice warning
him to desist.

The unknown dangers he anticipated, rendered more terrific by their
vague indefinite character, were enough to appal a stouter bosom. De
Vessey would have faced and defied earthly perils, but these were
almost beyond his fortitude to endure. Love, however, gave excitement,
if not courage, and he resolved either to succeed or perish in the
attempt. The stairs were partially illumined by an uncertain glimmer
from a narrow window into the street. He felt his way, and every step
sent the life-blood curdling to his heart. He reached the topmost
stair; laid one hand on the latch. He listened; all was still save the
hollow gusts that rumbled round the dwelling.

With a feeling somewhat akin to desperation he entered. A lamp, yet
burning, emitted a feeble glare, but was well-nigh spent, giving a
more dismal aspect to this lonely chamber. It was apparently
unoccupied. The chair, the black funeral pall left by the officers of
justice over the pallet, the mysterious cabinet, the desk where the
painter usually sat, all remained undisturbed. De Vessey's attention
was more particularly directed towards the cabinet; there alone,
according to his instructions, were the means of deliverance. A cold,
clammy perspiration, a freezing shiver, came upon him as he
approached. He laid one hand on the latch; it resisted as before. He
tried force, a loud groan was heard in the chamber. Every fibre of his
frame seemed to grow rigid; every limb stiffened with horror; and he
drew back.

This was a sorry beginning to the adventure, and he inwardly repented
of his rashness. Looking round in extreme agony, his eyes rested on
the black pall. Could it be, or was it from the expiring glimmer of
the lamp? The drapery appeared to move. Another and a deeper groan! De
Vessey for a space was unable to move; but his courage came apace,
inasmuch as it was some relief, and a diversion from the awful
mysteries of that grim cabinet. He approached the pallet hastily,
throwing off the heavy coverlet. The recumbent body was yet beneath,
but convulsed, as though struggling to free itself from an oppressive
burden. De Vessey watched, while his blood froze with terror.
Gradually these convulsive movements extended to the features. The
lips quivered as though essaying to speak; the eye-balls rolling
rapidly under their lids. A slight