Infernal Regions,' the rendezvous of
the band of miscreants known as the 'Jolly Knights of the Round Table.'

Seated around that table was a company of men, to the number of about
fifty, all so hideously masked, that they seemed like a band of demons
just released from the bottomless pit. They sat in profound silence, and
were all so perfectly motionless that they might have been taken for
statues rudely chiseled from the solid rock.

In the centre of the table, upon a coffin, sat the Judge of that awful
tribunal, arrayed from head to foot in a blood-red robe: he wore no
mask--why need he? What mask could exceed in hideousness the countenance
of the Dead Man?

Sydney was compelled to mount the table, and seat himself before his
Judge, who thus addressed him:--

'Prisoner, you are now in the presence of our august and powerful
band,--the Knights of the Round Table, of which I have honor to be the
Captain. I am also Judge and Executioner.--The charges I have against
you are already known to every Knight present. It but remains for them
to pronounce you guilty, and for me to pass and execute sentence upon
you. Attention, Knights! those of you who believe the prisoner to be
guilty, and worthy of such punishment as I shall choose to inflict upon
him, will _stand up_!'

Every masked figure arose, excepting _one_! and that one remained silent
and motionless. To him the judge turned with a savage scowl.

'How now, Doctor!' he cried in a voice of thunder--'do you dare dissent
from the decision of your comrades? Stand upon your feet, or by G----
I'll spring upon you and tear you limb from limb!'

But the Doctor stirred not.

'By hell!' roared the Dead Man, foaming with rage--'dare you disobey the
orders of your Captain? Villain, do you seek your own death?'

'_Dare?_' exclaimed the Doctor, tearing off his mask, and confronting
his ruffian leader with an unquailing eye--'_dare!_ Why, thou
white-livered hound, I dare spit upon and spurn ye! And forsooth, ye
call me a villain--you coward cut-throat, traitor, monster, murderer of
weak women and helpless babes! I tell you, Dead Man, your Power is at an
end in these Vaults. There are robbers, there may be murderers
here--although thank God, _I_ never shed human blood--but bad as we are,
your damnable villainy, your cruelty and your tyranny have disgusted us.
I for one submit to your yoke no longer; so may the devil take you, and
welcome!'

Sydney now for the first time reco