him with grim defiance. Surprise and consternation fell upon the group of listeners. The sanguinary monster cast a look upon Polly significant and suggestive. He whispered something behind his hand.

"Poor old man," said Polly; "he's so handsome and so becomingly dressed. I'm so sorry for him, Tom."

"Ah, madam," said Mr. Savage, "since you, have commenced to pity me, I know what I may expect. Even thus you deplored the fate of your last victim. He was young and lovable, but you killed him, nevertheless."

"What'll we do with him?" said Tom. "How did the craythur get in?" said Bridget. "He was at the door this morning, but I put him away wid a flea in his ear.'

"Shall I let him go, Poll?" said Tom. "Ah no; let's keep him for a while, and see what we can do with him," said Polly; and accordingly Tom sprang suddenly forward, and, opening the door of a little room, thrust Mr. Savage in, and locked the door upon the outside. Five minutes after the house was as still as ever. Mr. Savage gave himself up for lost. This, then, was one of those dens of crime and horror at which the world grew pale. He did not dare look at the walls of his prison, fearing they would narrow about him. He feared to take a step forward, feeling certain that the carpet concealed a trap-door. How would they kill him? he wondered. One thing was certain-they'd manage it skilfully to save his legs.

Gracious powers! was he, then, to die?

The old gentleman raised the hat from his head and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. His knees trembled beneath him. And yet he was not a coward. If it had been the will of Heaven that he should die an open, commonplace death, he could have met it like a man as one who has no crime upon his conscience. But to be caught in this horrible trap and butchered! The thought was terrible! Every moment the love of life grew stronger within him. He looked about him despairingly. Then he listened attentively. He thought he heard a peculiar step. It was low and shuffling; not only these, but soft and dragging: it was the step of Chang. The features of Mr. Savage immediately lost their terrified expression, a gleam of hope shone in his face. He took from his pocket a piece of gold and thrust it beneath the door, just far enough to be perceptible without being available.

But the step of Chang went on. The heart of Mr. Savage sank within him. His gold was exhausted, and he feared a greenback wouldn't

seem like a toy in the eyes of the Chinese. Nevertheless, he placed a five-dollar greenback by the side of the gold piece.

Chang opened the front-door and commenced polishing the knobs. Once in a while he looked at the pretty gold piece and the funny paper with pictures on it under the door by his side. Then he gazed abstractedly about him with his mild melancholy eyes. The spacious corridor was dark and still. Chang walked slowly to the room that contained Mr. Savage. Innocently he turned the key in the lock. Out darted poor Mr. Savage-out the door and down the street. Chang picked up the play

things from under his feet, and shut the door of the room. He seemed to like the paper with funny pictures on it almost as well as he did the gold piece. He put them both under his pigtail, and went on polishing the knobs. How they did shine when Bridget came up the stairs!

"Och, ye darlint! More power to your elbow!" she said, and again patted his pigtail approvingly. And again did the poor savage shrink from this familiarity.

Out darted poor Mr. Savage, breathlessly, wildly. His gray hairs streamed behind him. His eyes wore a strained, eager expression. People gazed upon him wonderingly. At last he reached Fred's lodgings. Stumbling up the stairs, when he reached the landing be saw a light in the front room. His heart com. menced to beat wildly. Who lighted the gas? Surely not his boy, his beloved lad! If he was yet alive-if they had both escaped! He staggered forward, opened the door, and saw Fred sitting in his arm-chair, his feet on the window-sill, smoking his meerschaum. The poor old gentleman fell upon his nephew's neck and sobbed outright.

"My boy! my dear lad!" he cried. "Alive and well!"

Fred's meerschaum fell to the ground, and broke in pieces on the floor. He got upon his feet, still with his uncle's arms about him. I

'Why, uncle," he said-"Uncle Sol, what can be the matter?"

"Oh, Fred, my boy," gasped the old gentleman. "Such an escape! Thank God, we are both alive and well. Such an escape!"

"A railroad accident?" said Fred, forcing his uncle into the arm-chair, and taking his hat and gloves.

"Worse than that, Fred; far worse." "A garrotter?" Fred asked, taking off his uncle's boots, and loosening his neck-tie. "Worse, oh, much worse," gasped the old gentleman.

But what brought you to town?" said Fred, mixing for his uncle a glass of brandyand-water.

"Ah!" sighed Mr. Savage; "it's a long story, Fred. But you shall hear it all, my boy. If you had only been as candid with me as I shall be with you, I should not have seen this terrible day. But I won't complain; since you are saved, I won't complain."

Mr. Savage paused and looked at his nephew. Certainly Fred was exceedingly handsome. As he stood there, flushed and expectant, he looked like a young Apollo. Mr. Savage looked upon him, and took a long breath of relief. How did he ever escape with such legs? he thought. There was altogether an appetizing look about his nephew that would have tempted a can

nibal.

"What do you think of a monster that devours human legs?" said Mr. Savage.

Fred started, and looked at his uncle in

amazement.

"And a pale, yellow-haired woman that murders people, and gets broken-hearted with remorse?"

Fred grew pale, and still stared at his uncle.

"And a girl with a voice like an angel, that shrieks about somebody being murdered, and leaving her alive and a devil inside of a bird for a watch-dog-and a room with a trapdoor?"

frowzy Cerberus, the innocent and child-like Chang, the pale, lustrous-eyed Polly, the musical-voiced Estelle, the diabolical Mephistopheles, and the sanguinary Tom.

The old gentleman was so taken up with his story that he failed to notice its effect upon Fred. At first his nephew was inclined to laugh, then to be grave, and at last an expression of vexed perplexity rested upon his face.

His uncle waxed impatient with his continued silence.

"Do you mean to say, sir," he cried, "that you are indifferent to the horrors I have described? Can you listen unmoved to scenes like these going on in the heart of a Christian community? What do you mean, Fred, by staring in that stupid way! Haven't you been listening to me?"

"Ye-es, sir," stammered Fred, collecting his faculties. "I-I am so horrified that I don't know what to say or do. I-I'd like to think it over, sir. Would you mind, Uncle Sol, if I went out for a little walk?"

"Now, Fred, my boy," said his uncle, quite satisfied with his nephew's emotion, "don't let the matter excite you too much. By the help of Providence and the guileless simplicity of that Chinese, I have escaped, probably, a

fearful death. Heaven knows what crimes have been committed in that house, or how deep the cellars may be with human gore and the

"He's gone mad!" exclaimed Fred, in bones of their victims. But to-morrow the alarm.

"No," said Mr. Savage, "I am not mad, although I've had enough to make me so. Do you doubt the existence of all these things? Go to 219 Blank Street, and you'll find them?" When his uncle mentioned this number and this street, Fred's face shone with a sudden light; a colour flamed into his cheek. "Two hundred and nineteen!" he repeated softly. "Yes, 219,” replied his uncle. "I've been there to-day.'

whole matter shall be thoroughly investigated. To-night I must strive to restore repose to my shattered nerves. Of course, my boy, go out for a walk; the air will do you good. But return early and get to bed, so that we shall be prepared for the morning. As for me, I shall get to bed immediately."

Mr. Savage went to bed, and, what with excitement, fatigue, and brandy-and-water, soon snored lustily. Fred made an elaborate toilet, and then went out. He walked rapidly across "You?" cried Fred. "And why did you go town, and reaching Blank Street, stopped at there? and how did you get in?"

Now these were embarrassing questions. Mr. Savage was compelled then to own that he had played the spy. It had a nasty sound about it that jarred upon the old gentleman grievously. But did not the end in this case justify the means?

At all events, the story must be told. And told it was, thoroughly and graphically. Mr. Savage, having drunk his brandy-and-water, resting in comfortable security in his arm-chair, with Fred for an auditor, entered into the spirit of the narrative. He described the

219.

One would scarcely have known the house for the gloomy and repelling mansion of the morning. Lights gleamed from the windows; sounds of revelry and mirth were heard from the first story; the great hall-door was opened wide, leaving the pretty little vestibule, with its lace and curtains, the inviting portal.

Fred ran lightly up the steps, and through the vestibule, pausing for a moment at the door of the room on the right. A girlish laugh fell upon his ear, and in a moment a flush of emotion sprang into his face. Then

he entered. The scene before him was allur- I wanted a model. The legs were in Polly's ing.

A lofty room, brilliantly lighted, warmly carpetted, tastefully furnished. In its centre a dining-table, upon which, the heavier articles being removed, there rested a dainty repast of fruits and pastries. At one corner gleamed a decanter of wine and some half-filled glasses. At this table sat two charming women and a man. One of the women-a blonde, with lustrous eyes of a deep violet, pale, high brow, and hair of a faint golden colour-went over to Fred, and put out to him a charming hand. | The man, of perhaps thirty-five, in a negligent toilet of drab pants and vest, brown velvet coat, and flowing neckerchief, raised high his glass of wine.

"A la bonne heure," he cried. "Dinner is over, but Bridget shall fetch you in a plate."

The other woman, a girl of perhaps twenty, with eyes like stars, a warm olive skin, and hair falling in thick curls upon a beautiful neck, scarcely arose from her chair; but her eyes were full of a tender and questioning, interest.

room, and when she's writing you might as well try to arouse the dead. As for my toilet, you'll allow me to choose that for myself, I suppose. A man's house is his castle."

"But how about Polly and Estelle?" said Fred, his voice softening. 'Why in the world did Polly declare to Estelle that she had murdered a man, and was heart-broken about it?"

"Oh, Fred, you goose!" said Polly. "I was in the very height of my novel, when they declared I must kill my hero to make an effect. Just fancy how wretchedly I felt about it. I only went in where Estelle was studying her part to get a little consolation from her."

Estelle started; a look of half amusement and half vexation stole over her face.

"You don't mean to say, Fred, you heard me practising for the rehearsal to-morrow?" "I didn't," said Fred; "but my uncle did. He was in the closet yonder."

"The insane gentleman!" burst from the lips of the three. "We thought he was a lunatic, and shut him up in the room until we

"Come, Fred," said Tom, "have a glass of could make some inquiries about him. Half wine." an hour after he was gone. How the dence did he get out?"

"No," said Fred, averting his eyes from the beautiful brunette, while a hot flush leaped into his cheek. Before I ever touch my lips to a morsel in this house again I must have an explanation. Nobody is fonder of a joke than I am. The untrammelled freedom of our lives here has been very pleasant to me; but there is a limit to everything. The dearest person in the world to me, except one, has been exposed to the most agonizing terror and wanton insult in this house to-day. To amuse an idle moment, you have condescended to torture the kindest, the best creature in the world."

"Hold there!" said Tom. "Those are hard words. What the deuce do you mean? Be kind enough to explain as you go along."

"I have only to say that the old gentleman for whose benefit the comedy was enacted here to-day at two o'clock was my uncle."

Tom looked at Polly, Polly looked at Estelle. "I can't make him out," said Tom. "What does he mean?"

"Do you deny then," said Fred, "that at two o'clock to-day you put on an old dressinggown and scarlet cap, smeared a streak of red paint over your face, and, throwing a billet of wood down the stairs, called for the leg of a man, well-formed and muscular?"

"Then it was not a joke upon the old gentleman? I thought you couldn't be capable of such cruelty. I beg your pardon, Tom: you know I never intrude upon you in the middle of the day, and I thought you had got the whole thing up as a joke."

A joke!" repeated Tom. "By Jove! he We frightened us as much as we did him. thought he was a maniac. How the deuce did he get out?"

"How did he get in?" said Polly. "Surely Bridget did not'

"No, indeed," said Fred; "she even refused a five-dollar gold piece; you must have hired something new in the way of a servant. My uncle described a mild-eyed melancholy creature, with a yellow skin, and long, narrow eyes"

"Ah!" said Polly.

"That heathen Chinee,'" sighed Tom. "My uncle came to my lodgings more dead than alive."

"Poor old boy! How the deuce did you manage it?"

"I didn't manage it at all; I thought first I'd come down here and see you."

"I don't suppose he'll take to us now," said Tom. "I'm afraid it's all up with you and Estelle."

"If I thought that," said Fred, "I'd go out