his
strength near the hinge, or pivots, where, of course, it was thrown
away; but as soon as he had touched the farther edge, it yielded to a
slight pressure. Here, inside, there was a stone handle by which it
was easily opened, while, outside, he thought that it was closed by
swinging it as one went out, so that it went by its own weight into
its place.

After all, there was nothing very strange in this. Harry had read
about such stone doors. In the accounts of the Moabite cities,
mention is made of something of the sort; and as those have lasted
for three thousand years, this one might well lust for several
hundred.

But the package!

There were no traces of it. At the hinge end of the slab there was a
wedge-shaped stone, by inserting which here the door could be secured
against opening from without. Into this wedge-shaped crevice he had
thrust the package. He saw also that in pushing it far in he had only
secured its discovery, for he must have pushed it so far that the
first one who passed had found it.

Now who could that have been?

Whoever it was, the package was gone. No doubt it was one of the
Carlists, who had taken it to their leader. It was gone beyond all
possibility of recovery.

Harry had been so taken up with his examination of these things that
he had forgotten all about the necessity of caution. He stood there
thus, in thought, the torch brightly burning, when suddenly he was
roused by some one rushing up the steps. He darted back into the
passage-way, and banged the stone door after him.

Too late. In an instant the pursuer was upon him and had caught at
his coat collar.

But Harry was not the man to give up at the first attack. Quick as
lightning, he drew forth a revolver from his breast pocket, and,
hastily cocking it, turned to confront his assailant.

One look was enough.

"Ashby!" he cried.

"You scoundrel!" cried Ashby, in a fury. "Scoundrel! villain!
traitor!"

CHAPTER XXXIII.

IN WHICH THERE IS A VERY PRETTY QUARREL.

In order to account for the strange and shockingly rude language of
Ashby, which must be as astonishing to the reader as it was to Harry,
it will be necessary to go back a little.

You see, then, my dears, immediately after Harry's flight, Ashby also
had hurried away, and had reached his own room without further
adventure. He now began to think that he had acted with mad folly and
recklessness; yet at the same time he could not bring himself to
r