"I am paid to put your excellency to death," rejoined Nightgall, with the utmost coolness. "I will give you twice the sum to spare me," rejoined Renard, who saw from Nightgall's looks that he had no chance, unless he could work upon his avarice. "Hum!" exclaimed the jailer; who, not being able to reach his dagger, which had rolled to some distance, had drawn his sword, and was now shortening it, with intent to plunge it in the other's throat-"I would take your offer-but I have gone too far." "Fear nothing," gasped Renard, giving himself up for lost. "I swear by my patron, Saint Paul, that I will not harm a hair of your head. Against your employer only will I direct my vengeance.” I will not trust you," replied Nightgall, about to strike. But just as he was about to deal the fatal blow -at the very moment that the point of the blade pierced the ambassador's skin, he was plucked backwards by Cholmondeley, and hurled on the ground. Perceiving it was his rival, who was more hateful to him even than Renard, Cholmondeley, on the onset, had prepared to take some part in the struggle, and noticing the poniard, had first of all possessed himself of it, and then attacked Nightgall in the manner above related. Throwing himself upon his foe, Cholmondeley tried to stab him; but it appeared that he wore a stout buff jerkin, for the weapon glanced aside, without doing him any injury. As Cholmondeley was about to repeat the thrust, and in a part less defended, he was himself pushed aside by Renard, who, by this time, had gained his feet, and was threatening vengeance upon his intended assassin. But the esquire was unwilling to abandon his prey; and in the struggle, Nightgall, exerting all his strength, broke from them, and wresting the dagger from Cholmondeley, succeeded in opening the door. Renard, foaming with rage, rushed after him, utterly forgetful of Cholmondeley, who listened with breathless anxiety to their retreating footsteps. Scarcely knowing what to do, but resolved not to throw away the chance of escape, the esquire hastily attired himself, and taking up a lamp which Renard had left upon the floor, quitted the cell. "I will seek out Cicely," he cried, "and set her free; and then, perhaps, we may be able to escape together." But the hope that for a moment arose within his breast was checked by the danger and difficulty of making the search. Determined, however, to hazard the attempt, he set out in a contrary direction to that taken by Nightgall and Renard, and proceeding at a rapid pace, soon reached a flight of steps, up which he mounted. He was now within a second passage, similar to the first, with cells on either side; but though he was too well convinced, from the sounds issuing from them, that they were occupied, he did not dare to open any of them. Still pursuing his headlong course, he now took one turn, now another, until he was completely bewildered and exhausted. While leaning against the wall to recruit himself, he was startled by a light approaching at a distance, and fearing to encounter the person who bore it, was about to hurry away, when, to his inexpressible joy, he perceived it was Cicely. With a wild cry he started towards her, calling to her by name; but the young damsel, mistaking him, probably, for her persecutor, let fall her lamp, uttered a piercing scream, and fled. In vain her lover strove to overtake her-in vain he shouted to her, and implored her to stop-his cries were drowned in her shrieks, and only added. to her terror. Cholmondeley, however, though distanced, kept her for some time in view, when all at once she disappeared. On gaining the spot where she had vanished, he found an open trap-door, and certain she must have descended by it, took the same course. He found himself in a narrow vaulted passage, but could discover no traces of her he sought. Hurrying forward, though almost ready to drop with fatigue, he came to a large octagonal chamber. At one side he perceived a ladder, and at the head of it the arched entrance to a cell. In an agony of hope and fear he hastened towards the recess, and as he approached, his doubt was made certainty by a loud scream. Quick as thought he sprang into the cell, and found, crouched in the further corner, the object of his search. "Cicely," he exclaimed, "it is I-your loverCholmondeley." "You!" she exclaimed, starting up and gazing at him as if she could scarcely trust the evidence of her senses; "and I have been flying from you all this time, taking you for Nightgall." And throwing herself into his arms, she was strained passionately to his bosom. After the first rapturous emotions had subsided, Cicely hastily explained to her lover that after she had been borne away by Nightgall she had fainted, and on reviving found herself in her accustomed prison. Filled with alarm by his dreadful threats, she had determined to put an end to her existence rather than expose herself to his violence; and had arisen with that resolution when an impulse prompted her to try the door. To her surprise it was unfastened-the bolt having shot wide of the socket,--and quitting the cell, she had wandered about along the passages, until they had so mysteriously encountered each other. This explanation given, and Cholmondeley having related what had befallen him, the youthful pair, almost blinded to their perilous situation by their joy at their unexpected reunion, set forth in the hope of "Your executioner," replied a hollow voice. And suddenly drawing a poniard, the mask aimed a terrible blow at Renard, which, if he had not avoided it, must have proved fatal. Thus assaulted, Renard tried to draw his sword, but he was prevented by the mask, who grappled with him, and brought him to the ground. In the struggle, however, the assassin's vizard fell off, and disclosed the features of Nightgall. "Nightgall!" exclaimed Renard. "You, then, were the mysterious visitant to my chamber in the Bloody Tower. I might have guessed as much when I met you in the passage. But you persuaded me I had seen an apparition." "If your excellency took me for a ghost, I took you for something worse," replied Nightgall, keeping his knee upon the ambassador's chest, and searching for his dagger, which he had dropped in the conflict. "Release me, villain !" cried Renard. "Would you murder me?" By permission of Messrs. George Routledge and Sons. "I am paid to put your excellency to death," rejoined Nightgall, with the utmost coolness. "I will give you twice the sum to spare me," rejoined Renard, who saw from Nightgall's looks that he had no chance, unless he could work upon his avarice. "Hum!" exclaimed the jailer; who, not being able to reach his dagger, which had rolled to some distance, had drawn his sword, and was now shortening it, with intent to plunge it in the other's throat-"I would take your offer-but I have gone too far." "Fear nothing," gasped Renard, giving himself up for lost. “I swear by my patron, Saint Paul, that I will not harm a hair of your head. Against your employer only will I direct my vengeance." "I will not trust you," replied Nightgall, about to strike. But just as he was about to deal the fatal blow --at the very moment that the point of the blade pierced the ambassador's skin, he was plucked backwards by Cholmondeley, and hurled on the ground. Perceiving it was his rival, who was more hateful to him even than Renard, Cholmondeley, on the onset, had prepared to take some part in the struggle, and noticing the poniard, had first of all possessed himself of it, and then attacked Nightgall in the manner above related. Throwing himself upon his foe, Cholmondeley tried to stab him; but it appeared that he wore a stout buff jerkin, for the weapon glanced aside, without doing him any injury. As Cholmondeley was about to repeat the thrust, and in a part less defended, he was himself pushed aside by Renard, who, by this time, had gained his feet, and was threatening vengeance upon his intended assassin. But the esquire was unwilling to abandon his prey; and in the struggle, Nightgall, exerting all his strength, broke from them, and wresting the dagger from Cholmondeley, succeeded in opening the door. Renard, foaming with rage, rushed after him, utterly forgetful of Cholmondeley, who listened with breathless anxiety to their retreating footsteps. Scarcely knowing what to do, but resolved not to throw away the chance of escape, the esquire hastily attired himself, and taking up a lamp which Renard had left upon the floor, quitted the cell. "I will seek out Cicely," he cried, "and set her free; and then, perhaps, we may be able to escane together." But the hope that for a moment arose within his breast was checked by the danger and difficulty of making the search. Determined, however, to hazard the attempt, he set out in a contrary direction to that taken by Nightgall and Renard, and proceeding at a rapid pace, soon reached a flight of steps, up which he mounted. He was now within a second passage, similar to the first, with cells on either side; but though he was too well convinced, from the sounds issuing from them, that they were occupied, he did not dare to open any of them. Still pursuing his headlong course, he now took one turn, now another, until he was completely bewildered and exhausted. While leaning against the wall to recruit himself, he was startled by a light approaching at a distance, and fearing to encounter the person who bore it, was about to hurry away, when, to his inexpressible joy, he perceived it was Cicely. With a wild cry he started towards her, calling to her by name; but the young damsel, mistaking him, probably, for her persecutor, let fall her lamp, uttered a piercing scream, and fled. In vain her lover strove to overtake her-in vain he shouted to her, and implored her to stop-his cries were drowned in her shrieks, and only added to her terror. Cholmondeley, however, though distanced, kept her for some time in view, when all at once she disappeared. On gaining the spot where she had vanished, he found an open trap-door, and certain she must have descended by it, took the same course. He found himself in a narrow, vaulted passage, but could discover no traces of her he sought. Hurrying forward, though almost ready to drop with fatigue, he came to a large octagonal chamber. At one side he perceived a ladder, and at the head of it the arched entrance to a cell. In an agony of hope and fear he hastened towards the recess, and as he approached, his doubt was made certainty by a loud scream. Quick as thought he sprang into the cell, and found, crouched in the further corner, the object of his search. "Cicely," he exclaimed, "it is I-your loverCholmondeley." "You!" she exclaimed, starting up and gazing at him as if she could scarcely trust the evidence of her senses; "and I have been flying from you all this time, taking you for Nightgall." And throwing herself into his arms, she was strained passionately to his bosom. After the first rapturous emotions had subsided, Cicely hastily explained to her lover that after she had been borne away by Nightgall she had fainted, and on reviving found herself in her accustomed prison. Filled with alarm by his dreadful threats, she had determined to put an end to her existence rather than expose herself to his violence; and had arisen with that resolution when an impulse prompted her to try the door. To her surprise it was unfastened-the bolt having shot wide of the socket,-and quitting the cell, she had wandered about along the passages, until they had so mysteriously encountered each other. This explanation given, and Cholmondeley having related what had befallen him, the youthful pair, almost blinded to their perilous situation by their joy at their unexpected reunion, set forth in the hope of discovering the subterranean passage to the further side of the moat. Too much engrossed by each other to heed whither they were going, they wandered on; Cicely detailing all the persecution she had experienced from Nightgall, and her lover breathing vengeance against him. The only person she had seen, she said, during her captivity, was Xit. He had found his way to her dungeon, but was discovered, while endeavouring to liberate her, by Nightgall, who threatened to put him to death, if he did not take a solemn oath, which he proposed, not to reveal the place of her captivity. And she concluded the dwarf had kept his vow, as she had seen nothing of him since; nor had any one been led to her retreat. To these details, as well as to her professions of love for him, unshaken by time or circumstance, Cholmondeley listened with such absorbing attention, that, lost to everything else, he tracked passage after passage, unconscious where he was going. At last, he opened a door which admitted them to a gloomy hall, terminated by a broad flight of steps, down which several armed figures were descending. Cholmondeley would have retreated, but it was impossible. He had been perceived by the soldiers, who rushed towards him, questioned him and Cicely, and not being satisfied with their answers, conveyed them up the stairs to the lower guardroom in the White Tower, which it appeared the wanderers had approached. Here, amongst other soldiers and warders, were the three giants, and instantly addressing them, Cholmondeley delivered Cicely to their care. He would have had them convey her to the Stone Kitchen, but this an officer who was present would not permit, till inquiries had been made, and meanwhile the esquire was placed in arrest. Shortly after this, an extraordinary bustle was heard at the door, and four soldiers entered carrying the body of a man upon a shutter. They set | it down in the midst of the room. Amongst those who flocked round to gaze upon it was Cholmondeley. It was a frightful spectacle. But in the mutilated though still breathing mass the esquire recognised Nightgall. While he was gazing at the miserable wretch, and marvelling how he came in this condition, a tall personage strode into the room, and commanding the group to stand aside, approached the body. It was Renard. After regarding the dying man for a few moments with savage satisfaction, he turned to depart, when his eye fell upon Cholmondeley. "I had forgotten you," he said. "But it seems you have not neglected the opportunity offered you of escape." "We caught him trying to get out of the subterranean passages, your excellency," remarked the officer. "Let him remain here till further orders," rejoined Renard. "You have saved my life, and shall find I am not ungrateful," he added to Cholmondeley. "If your excellency would indeed requite me," replied the esquire, " you will give orders that this maiden, long and falsely imprisoned by the wretch before us, may be allowed to return to her friends.” "I know her," rejoined Renard, looking at Cicely; "and I know that what you say is true. Release her," he added to the officer. And giving a last terrible look at Nightgall, he quitted the room. "Is Cicely here?" groaned the dying man. "She is," replied Cholmondeley. "Have you aught to say to her?" "Ay, and to you, too," replied Nightgall. "Let her approach, and bid the others stand off, and I will confess all I have done. Give me a draught of wine, for it is a long story, and I must have strength to tell it." Before relating Nightgall's confession, it will be necessary to see what dreadful accident had befallen him; and in order to do this, his course must be traced subsequently to his flight from Cholmondeley's dungeon. Acquainted with all the intricacies of the passages, and running with great speed, Nightgall soon distanced his pursuer, who having lost trace of him, was obliged to give up the chase. Determined, however, not to be baulked of his prey, he retraced his steps to the torture-chamber, where he found Wolfytt, Sorrocold, and three other officials, to whom he recounted the gaoler's atrocious attempt. "I will engage to find him for your excellency," said Wolfytt, who bore no very kindly feeling to Nightgall; "if he is anywhere below the Tower. I know every turn and hole in these passages better than the oldest rat that haunts them.” "Deliver him to my vengeance," rejoined Renard, "and you shall hold his place." "Says your excellency so!" cried Wolfytt; "then you may account him already in your hands." With this he snatched up a halberd and a torch, and bidding two of the officials come with him, started off at a swift pace on the right. Neither he nor his companions relaxed their pace, but tracked passage after passage, and examined vault after vault-but still without success. Renard's impatience manifested itself in furious exclamations, and Wolfytt appeared perplexed and disappointed. "I have it!" he exclaimed, rubbing his shaggy head. "He must have entered Saint John's Chapel, in the White Tower, by the secret passage." The party were again in motion; and, taking the least circuitous road, Wolfytt soon brought them to a narrow passage, at the end of which he descried a dark crouching figure. |