r life, or refused her mercy."

"I swear it."

"May the dead convict you of perjury if you have forsworn yourself,"
said Alan; "you are free. Take away your hand!"

"Ha! what is this?" exclaimed the priest. "You have put some jugglery
upon me. I cannot withdraw my hand. It sticks to her throat, as though
'twere glued by blood. Tear me away. I have not force enough to liberate
myself. Why do you grin at me? The corpse grins likewise. It is
jugglery. I am innocent. You would take away my life. Tear me away, I
say: the veins rise; they blacken; they are filling with new blood. I
feel them swell; they coil like living things around my fingers. She is
alive."

"And you are innocent?"

"I am--I am. Let not my ravings convict me. For Jesu's sake, release
me."

"Blaspheme not, but arise. I hold you not."

"You do," groaned the priest. "Your grasp tightens round my throat; your
hard and skinny fingers are there--I strangle--help!"

"Your own fears strangle you. My hand is at my side," returned Alan
calmly.

"Villain, you lie. Your grasp is like a vice. The strength of a thousand
devils is in your hand. Will none lend help? I never pressed so hard.
Your daughter never suffered this torture--never--never. I
choke--choke--oh!" And the priest rolled heavily backwards.

There was a deep groan; a convulsive rattle in the throat; and all was
still.

"He is dead--strangled," cried several voices, holding down the torch.
The face of the priest was blackened and contorted; his eyeballs
protruded from their sockets; his tongue was nearly bitten through in
the desperate efforts he had made to release himself from Alan's gripe;
his hair was erect with horror. It was a ghastly sight.

A murmur arose amongst the gipsies. Barbara deemed it prudent to appease
them.

"He was guilty," cried she. "He was the murderer of Susan Rookwood."

"And I, _her father_, have avenged her," said Alan, sternly.

The dreadful silence that followed this speech was broken by the report
of a pistol. The sound, though startling, was felt almost as a relief.

"We are beset," cried Alan. "Some of you fly to reconnoitre."

"To your posts," cried Barbara.

Several of the crew flocked to the entrance.

"Unbind the prisoners," shouted Alan.

Mrs. Mowbray and Luke were accordingly set free.

Two almost simultaneous reports of a pistol were now heard.

"'Tis Ranulph Rookwood," said Alan; "that was the preconcerted signal."

"Ranulph Rookwood," e