"Hell-hounds!" he cried; "release me!" At the same moment, Quilt Arnold rushed forward with such haste, that, stumbling over William Morgan, he precipitated him into the grave. Every window, from the groundfloor to the garret had its occupant, and the roofs were covered with spectators. “You know,” he muttered, “you know quite well that your troubles are far more likely to weigh upon me than my own. ‘Grace à vous, I am compelled to rescue myself. ’ ‘Charvill, then,’ Gerald concluded, unperturbed. “What’s that young lady’s name—girl in dark brown, stranger here?” Mr.
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