on. Starting up, he was confronted by the dark and menacing
visage of the Dead Man. The villain was alone and held in his left hand
a large knife; Sydney perceived, by his unsteady gait, his wildly
rolling eyes, and his thick, indistinct utterance, that he was much
intoxicated.

'I am come, dog,' said he, with a look that a demon might have
envied--'to feast upon your heart, and drink your blood. My soul is
hungry. I wish you had a thousand lives for me to take. Sit up, and let
me dig out your eyes, and cut off your nose, ears and fingers--for you
must die by inches! Get up, I say!'

'The monster is drunk,' thought Sydney; 'had I a weapon and sufficient
strength, I might perhaps overcome him; but alas! I am weak and sore--'

'Get up!' again roared the ruffian,'that I may sacrifice ye upon the
flaming altar of Satan, my deity. My heart is a coal of fire; it burns
me, and blood alone can quench it!'

With the howl of a wild beast, he threw himself upon his victim.

But ere he could strike the deadly blow, he was writhing and struggling
in the powerful grasp of a tall, stout man, who at that crisis rushed
into the dungeon.

'Now, reptile, I have thee!' muttered the Doctor, (for it was he) as
with mighty and resistless strength he dashed the miscreant to the floor
and deprived him of his knife.

But the Dead Man struggled with all the fury of desperation; with his
_iron hand_ he made rapid and savage passes at the head of his
assailant, knowing that a single well-directed blow would stun him. But
the Doctor's science in pugilism enabled him to keep off the blows with
ease, while he punished his antagonist in the most thorough and
satisfactory manner. Finding himself likely to be overcome, the villain
yelled at the top of his voice--'Treason! murder! help!'

'Your handkerchief, Mr. Sydney--quick!' cried the Doctor. Frank, who had
already arisen from his bed of straw, handed his gallant protector the
article he had called for--and, though very weak, assisted in gagging
the vanquished ruffian, who, breathless and exhausted, could now offer
but a slight resistance.

'Into the box with him!' exclaimed the Doctor, and the next minute the
Dead Man was stretched upon the points of the sharp nails; the lid was
closed upon him, the fire was lighted beneath, and he writhed in all the
torture he had inflicted upon poor Sydney.

Suddenly, the Doctor assumed a listening attitude, and whispered to his
companion--

'By heaven