y, where it was immediately recognized as the lady of Mr. Hedge. The
circumstance of her death soon came to the knowledge of our hero; and
while he could not help shedding a tear as he thought of her melancholy
fate (she had once been his wife, and he had once loved her,) he could
not deny to himself that he derived a secret joy from the thought, that
now his hopes with reference to Sophia Franklin were not without some
foundation. Acting upon this impulse, he had taken the earliest
opportunity to call upon the young lady; and at that interview, he had
with his customary frankness, related to her his entire history, and
concluded his narrative by making her an offer of his hand and
heart--and, reader, that honorable offer was accepted with the same
frankness with which it was made. On the evening in question, Frank was
enjoying one of those charming _tete-a-tetes_ with his Sophia, which all
lovers find so delightful, when the agonizing screams of the suffering
Josephine brought him to the room, as we have seen, and he found
himself, to his astonishment, standing face to face with the Dead Man
and the Doctor.

'Why, blood and fury!' cried the former, a gleam of pleasure passing
over his horrid features--'here is the very man of all men upon earth,
whom I most desired to see. Sydney, you are welcome.'

'What damnable villainy have you been at now?' demanded Frank,
recovering his courage and presence of mind, altho' he had reason to
believe that he had fallen into the power of his worst enemy in the
world.

'What business is that of yours?' growled the Dead Man--'Suffice it for
you to know that my _next_ act of villainy will be your assassination.'

Our hero drew a revolver from his pocket, and levelled it at the
villain's head, saying--

'Advance but a step towards me, and you are a _dead man_
indeed--Scoundrel! I am no longer a prisoner in your dungeon vaults, but
free, and able to protect myself against your brutal cruelty. Though you
are aided by the Doctor, whom I once thought my friend, I fear you not,
but dare you to do your worst.'

'You are brave, Sydney,' said the Dead Man, with something like a grim
of admiration--'but I hate you, and you must die. From the first moment
when I met you in the Dark Vaults, to the present time, I have observed
something in you that inspires me with a kind of _fear_--a moral
superiority over my malice and hatred that inflames me with jealous
rage. Even when you were in my pow