pen-mouthed behind him and beyond Curtis.

Startled himself, Curtis turned, and saw, with a feeling akin to
dismay, the tall figure of his uncle standing on the threshold of the
left portal, clad in a morning gown, with his eyes fixed inquiringly
upon Bolton and himself.

Chapter III.
An Unholy Compact.

"Who is that man, Curtis?" asked John Linden, pointing his thin finger
at Tim Bolton, who looked strangely out of place, as, with clay pipe,
he sat in the luxurious library on a sumptuous chair.

"That man?" stammered Curtis, quite at a loss what to say.

"Yes."

"He is a poor man out of luck, who has applied to me for assistance,"
answered Curtis, recovering his wits.

"That's it, governor," said Bolton, thinking it necessary to confirm
the statement. "I've got five small children at home almost starvin',
your honor."

"That is sad. What is your business, my man?"

It was Bolton's turn to be embarrassed.

"My business?" he repeated.

"That is what I said."

"I'm a blacksmith, but I'm willing to do any honest work."

"That is commendable; but don't you know that it is very ill-bred to
smoke a pipe in a gentleman's house?"

"Excuse me, governor!"

And Bolton extinguished his pipe, and put it away in a pocket of his
corduroy coat.

"I was just telling him the same thing," said Curtis. "Don't trouble
yourself any further, uncle. I will inquire into the man's
circumstances, and help him if I can."

"Very well, Curtis. I came down because I thought I heard voices."

John Linden slowly returned to his chamber, and left the two alone.

"The governor's getting old," said Bolton. "When I was butler here,
fifteen years ago, he looked like a young man. He didn't suspect that
he had ever seen me before."

"Nor that you had carried away his son, Bolton."

"Who hired me to do it? Who put me up to the job, as far as that
goes?"

"Hush! Walls have ears. Let us return to business."

"That suits me."

"Look here, Tim Bolton," said Curtis, drawing up a chair, and lowering
his voice to a confidential pitch, "you say you want money?"

"Of course I do."

"Well, I don't give money for nothing."

"I know that. What's wanted now?"

"You say the boy is alive?"

"He's very much alive."

"Is there any necessity for his living?" asked Curtis, in a sharp,
hissing tone, fixing his eyes searchingly on Bolton, to see how his
hint would be taken.

"You mean that you want me to murder him?" said Bolton,