the candle in his left hand and his sword now in
his right, leading the way, with his young master close behind, and
their shadows following and seeming to dance on the floor and walls,
which glistened here and there with moisture.

They proceeded slowly, Samson twice over hazarding a remark on the
dampness, but only to be sternly told to proceed, till at last the
little flight of steps appeared leading into the vault, where they came
to a sudden halt, for something suddenly flashed in the light of the
candle, and a harsh voice cried--

"Stand!"

CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN.

AT THE POINT OF THE SWORD.

Fred Forrester had been expecting the challenge from the moment they
began to move, but so suddenly and unexpectedly did it come at last,
that he remained for the moment speechless, gazing at the dimly seen
figure framed in the arched way, with the light playing upon the sword
extended toward his breast.

Samson was the first to speak.

"Take hold of the candle now," he whispered, "and I'll rush him. There
isn't room to strike, sir; and I can put aside his point."

"No, no," said Fred, forcing himself to the front, and addressing him
who barred the way. "Put up your sword; we are friends."

"Friends!" came back mockingly. "Then put up your own weapon."

"Of coarse," said Fred, quickly sheathing his sword. "I didn't know who
might be here. Scar Markham, we're come to help you."

"To help?" said the guardian of the vault, in a voice which sounded
strangely hollow in the narrow place. "Is this some fresh treachery?"

"What!" shouted Fred, angrily, as he stepped forward and pressed right
up to the point of the sword. Military life and training both were
forgotten, and in an instant the lad felt back in the old boyish days
sit home, when some sharp contention had taken place between him and his
companion.

"Stand back, sir!" said Scarlett, sternly, "or--"

"No, you wouldn't," cried Fred. "Put down your sword. You wouldn't be
such a coward. How dare you accuse me of treachery?"

Without a moment's hesitation, the sword-point was dropped, and Fred
cried eagerly--

"Now, then, come out into the daylight, and--Oh, what a fool I am! Scar
Markham, we've come to help you. I say, where's Sir Godfrey? Is he
safe?"

Scarlett tried to answer, but his feelings were too much for him.
Hunger, misery, confinement in that dark, depressing place, and the
mental agony he had been called upon to bear, rendered hi