sword, with a quick and natural impulse to make the bride a widow
forthwith. But he checked the desire for an instant as the
brigandish-looking gentleman, after a prolonged stare at the
premises, stepped up to the watchman, who had given them their
information an hour or two before, and who was still at his post.
The friends could not be seen, but they could hear, and they did
so very earnestly indeed.

"Can you tell me, my friend," began the cloaked unknown, "what
has become of the people residing in yonder house?"

The watchman, held his lamp up to the face of the interlocutor -
a handsome face by the way, what could be seen of it - and
indulged himself in a prolonged survey.

"Well!" said the gentleman, impatiently, "have you no tongue,
fellow? Where are they, I say?"

"Blessed if I know," said the watchman. "I, wasn't set here to
keep guard over them was I? It looks like it, though," said the
man in parenthesis; "for this makes twice to-night I've been
asked questions about it."

"Ah!" said the gentleman, with a slight start. "Who asked you
before, pray?"

"Two young gentlemen; lords, I expect, by their dress. Somebody
ran screaming out of the house, and they wanted to know what was
wrong."