ar as they were with scenes of
slaughter,--looked aghast at it.

During this dreadful pause the wretched man felt for his sword. It had
been removed from the scabbard by the Jew. He uttered a deep groan, but
said nothing.

"Despatch him!" roared Jonathan.

Having no means of defence, Sir Rowland cleared the blood from his
vision; and, turning to see whether there was any means of escape, he
descried the open door behind him leading to the Well Hole, and
instantly darted through it.

"As I could wish!" cried Jonathan. "Bring the light, Nab."

The Jew snatched up the link, and followed him.

A struggle of the most terrific kind now ensued. The wounded man had
descended the bridge, and dashed himself against the door beyond it;
but, finding it impossible to force his way further, he turned to
confront his assailants. Jonathan aimed a blow at him, which, if it had
taken place, must have instantly terminated the strife; but, avoiding
this, he sprang at the thief-taker, and grappled with him. Firmly built,
as it was, the bridge creaked in such a manner with their contending
efforts, that Abraham durst not venture beyond the door, where he stood,
holding the light, a horrified spectator of the scene. The contest,
however, though desperate, was brief. Disengaging his right arm,
Jonathan struck his victim a tremendous blow on the head with the
bludgeon, that fractured his skull; and, exerting all his strength,
threw him over the rails, to which he clung with the tenacity of
despair.

"Spare me!" he groaned, looking upwards. "Spare me!"

Jonathan, however, instead of answering him, searched for his knife,
with the intention of severing his wrist. But not finding it, he had
again recourse to the bludgeon, and began beating the hand fixed on the
upper rail, until, by smashing the fingers, he forced it to relinquish
its hold. He then stamped upon the hand on the lower bannister, until
that also relaxed its gripe.

Sir Rowland then fell.

A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent
into the water.

"Give me the link," cried Jonathan.

Holding down the light, he perceived that the wounded man had risen to
the surface, and was trying to clamber up the slippery sides of the
well.

"Shoot him! shoot him! Put him out of hish mishery," cried the Jew.

"What's the use of wasting a shot?" rejoined Jonathan, savagely. "He
can't get out."

After making several ineffectual attempts to keep himself