hing that _will_
touch the right spot! What shall it be? you have only to name it."

"I'll take a toss of that old brandy you gave me the other day, if it's
the same to you, sir."

"Oh, Master Gibbs, it's all the same to me. Delighted I am to oblige
you! _Padre mio!_ a glass of old Cognac for our friend--a tumblerful; a
wine-glass will do for me."

The padre poured out the brandy as he was desired, handed the lesser
glass to the captain, and the tumbler he placed in the locked hands of
the victim. Slowly and painfully the subdued ruffian raised the glass to
his mouth, careful not to spill a drop; then, before draining it, he
cleared his throat, while at the same time the captain rose to his feet,
his right foot resting a little on the heel, and held the wine-glass
before him.

"Now, then, Master Gibbs, for a toss that will touch the right spot."

"Ay, ay, captain!" said Gibbs; "and here's forgiveness for the future."

Scarcely had the words been uttered, and the liquor began to gurgle down
the hairy throat of the manacled wretch, than the pirate before him
pressed his foot with a quick, nervous action on the spring.

Like a flash the trap fell, carrying chair and man with it. The hinges
of the hatch creaked, the wicker-work chair fell with a bound on the
stone floor below, the heavy beam overhead gave a jarring quiver as the
strong silk rope brought up with a shuddering surge on the cleat where
it was belayed at the wall, and with a gasping, choking cry of pain
mingled with the ring of the shattered tumbler on the pavement, the
ruffian of a hundred crimes fell full three feet, and hung struggling in
the death agony. With almost superhuman force he raised his clenched
hands and struck his forehead till the manacles were twisted like wire
by the effort, spinning around too by the lopsided weight of his body,
while the beam above yielded slightly to the strain, and the deadly
cord, no longer squirming, but taut as a bar of iron, held the wretch in
its knotted embrace, clasped tight around the throat. In a minute or two
the hands ceased beating the inflamed face and head, and fell with a
clank before the body; the legs gave a few convulsive twitches, a last
and violent spasm shook the frame, and there Master Gibbs hung, a warm
dead lump of clay.

While this murderous business was going on, and the poor crippled wretch
was struggling in the jaws of death, the padre was chanting with his
profane tongue from his open