' inquired
the Dead Man, with assumed indifference.

'Mrs. Stevens can testify that the nephew Mr. Sydney strongly
recommended her to receive the poor unfortunate lady into her
service--and that arrangements were made to that effect,' answered the
boy, unsuspiciously.

The Dead Man seemed for a moment lost in deep thought. 'So it appears
that there are two witnesses whose testimony _might_ tend to the
acquittal of Sydney,' he thought to himself. 'Those two witnesses must
be put out of the way; one of them is now in my power--_he_ is done for;
I am acquainted with the name and residence of the other, and by G----d,
_she_ shall be done for, too!--_Kinchen_,' he said aloud, turning
savagely to the boy--'You must accompany me to the Dark Vaults.'

'Never,' exclaimed Clinton, resolutely--'rather will I die here. If you
attempt to carry me forcibly with you, I will struggle and resist--I
will proclaim to the guests in the ball room your dread character and
name; the mask will be torn from your face, and you will be dragged back
to prison, from whence you escaped.'

For the second time did the Dead Man pause, and reflect profoundly. He
thought somewhat in this wise:--'There is no possible means of egress
from this place, except thro' the ball room, which is crowded with
guests. True, I might bind and gag the _Kinchen_, but his struggles
would be sure to attract attention--and my discovery and capture would
be the result. It is evident, therefore, that I cannot carry him
forcibly hence, with safety to myself. Shall I _murder_ him? No, damn
it, 'tis hardly worth my while to do that--and somehow or other, these
murders almost invariably lead to detection. The devil himself couldn't
save my neck if I were to be hauled up on another murder--yet, by hell,
I must risk it in reference to that Mrs. Stevens, whose testimony would
be apt to save her accursed nephew, Sydney, from the gallows. Yes, I
must slit the old lady's windpipe; but the _Kinchen_--what the devil
shall I do to keep _him_ from blabbing, since I can't make up my mind to
kill him?'

Suddenly, a horrible thought flashed through the villain's mind.

'_Kinchen_,' he whispered, with a fiend-like laugh--'I have thought of a
plan by which to _silence your tongue forever_.'

He drew a huge clasp-knife from his pocket. Ere Clinton could cry out
for assistance, the monster grasped him by the throat with his vice-like
fingers--the poor boy's tongue protruded from his mouth