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“Get out, my dear boy ! TLord, no, -that is, they don’t get a chance. Thank my stars, it 1s an age since we had a night disturh- ance. It was Rathbone’s fault;, my head keeper, and the poor devil got his throat cut for a punishment. Nasty busmess, that —Dbut Tl tell you all about it another time. Come now, good people, the tempus is fugit- ing, and cveryone in the house 1s bound to

be up and stirring at six in the morning. Off

you go to byc-bye.” And, amid much noisc and laughing, the final farewells were said. ‘I'here was no help for it then. As T fol- lowed my old friecnd along the corridor, 1 found mysclf repeat- g, I an 1diotic, parrot-like way, “Rathbone,” “throat cut,” ‘“nasty busi- ness,” cte., until we rcached the end of it. Stelling stopped here, and touching a spring in what 1 had always regarded as a blank wall, caused a shiding pancl to ghde on one side, and admitted us to the unknown territory beyond. The pancl closed again, and we found oursclves the dark. “Wait,” whispered Stelling, “tll T strikea hight.” He nceed not have becn alarmed ; 1 had not the lcast inten- tion of abandoning him in the darkness, and pushing on on an indcependent voyage of discovery. I waited, then, tll a small clectric lamp which he carried Tighted up his kindly features, and then prepared obediently to follow wherever he led. As we passed an

occasional doorway, hung with a heavy curtain, my guide stopped and whistled

softly, when the sound was repeated from within, and we again continued our march, At least 1t was reassuring that somconc besides ourselves was on the alert, and | began to pull mysclf together, and make headway against my absurd cowardice, when all at once, the sound of a ghastly and pro- longed chuckle broke the stillness and threw

THI: STRAND

YUUOCONVULSIVELY CLUTCHED AT STELLING'S SHOULDER,

MAGAZINL.

me into a cold perspivation. 1 convulsively clutched at Stelling's shoulder, who quicted me with a polite “ Don't be a fool, Jack!” and we stood motionless for at least five minutes 3 then we again moved on, and at last pulled up m a snug little apartment, highted up with o cheerful fire, which threw a cosy fhicker on the wall) and gave me a comfortable sense of well-being. After all, It was not so bad. T was by this time dead tired, and, sinking into a huge arm-chatr, [ kicked off my boots and began to fecl at home. This was casy enough as long as Stelling would stay with me; but T dreaded the moment of sepa- ration which was at hand, and I chattered on industriously, jumping from one topic to another with feverish ingenuity in the effort to keep him at my side. At fivst it was all very well but 1t soon beeame deplorably evident that Stelling wanted to go to bed. 1 felt sorry for him, but continucd, notwith- standing, to plunge mto one ancedote alter anotherofrather doubtful veracity, charging madly at reminiscences which had their origin in my excited brain alone, and, cven re- sorting to riddles, 1 plied the poor fellow with whyand beeause until his brain be- came sodden, and un- disguised snores took the place of polite yawns., The end came, however, and, as we at length nodded good-might, and T watched his burly form recede into the corridor beyond, T had hard work to refrain from following him to implore him not to abandon me, and to mmpress upon him my willingness to accoms- pany him to the ends of the carth, or of any other place he might sclect, rather than that I should lose sight of his cheery face.

[ did cjaculate his name in a fecble voice after the door closed, and he heard me and looked m again.