school. This was Tom's plan to insnare me, and during this time he
was in the cellar, preparing the dungeon for my reception. My uncle and
old Jerry had gone in the buggy after Tom's horse and chaise.

"Ernest, I am willing to make terms with you now," said Tom, after he
had got rid of Betsey. "I came over here after that girl. You say you
know where she is. If you will tell me where I can find her, I will not
shut you up. Will you do it?"

"No!" I answered, as decidedly as I could speak the word.

"Think well of it. If I can't find her with your help, I shall find her
without it."

"Perhaps you will."

"The Hale boy was with you. I shall have him arrested at once by the
sheriff."

"Bob Hale don't know where the girl is. If he did, he wouldn't tell.
When you arrest him, he can tell a good story about Mrs. Loraine's
motherly care of Kate."

Tom bit his lips; he had no more idea of arresting Bob than he had of
arresting me.

"Once more, before I shut you up, will you tell me where the girl is, or
not?"

"I will not! I will rot in this hole before I will tell a word about the
girl."

He slammed the door upon me, and I was in utter darkness. I heard him
putting props against the door, and pounding them down so as to make it
secure. Then all was still outside, and I concluded that he had gone up
stairs. I had a faint hope that old Betsey would come down and release
me; but I immediately went to work upon the handkerchief which confined
my hands.

My captor had crossed my wrists and tied them together in this position.
I twisted and wrenched till I stretched the linen of the handkerchief,
and strained the knot enough to permit me to pull my hands through my
bonds, and free them. The darkness was gloomy and oppressive, even after
I had been only half an hour in the dungeon. I felt that, for Kate's
sake, as well as my own, I must get out. For the present she was safe,
for Tom had destroyed the skiff, so that he could not go out to the
Splash; but the poor girl would suffer agonies of terror if I did not go
to her in the course of the day.

I was almost furious when I thought of my situation; of Kate in the
cuddy of the boat, and of the will and money in the closet. I was afraid
my uncle would discover his loss before I could escape. I could hardly
keep from weeping with vexation as I thought of my misfortune. But it
was not my style to groan long over my mishaps, when there was a chance,
however desperate, of