Cruel As The Grave

By the time he had got on all his clothes, the day was a little lighter,

and he went into the passage to see after the safety of his prisoner.

He found young Munson stretched upon the mattress immediately before

the door.

"Quite correct," he thought; but he resolved to go up to the door to

make a closer examination. First he saw that the key had been taken out

of the lock.

"All right," he said to himself. "Munson has obeyed orders, and put the

key in his pocket."

And then still farther to assure himself of the safety of his charge, he

bent over the sleeping form of Munson and tried the lock, and found it

fast.

"Quite correct! Nothing has been neglected. He is a careful officer, and

shall be well reported at head-quarters," he muttered, with much

satisfaction.

But to reach the lock at all, he had been obliged to bend so far over

the sleeping body, that now, in trying to recover his perpendicular, he

lost his balance, and fell heavily, nearly crushing and quite waking

Munson, who, in struggling to throw off the burden, recognized old

Purley, but pretending to mistake him for Mr. Berners, grappled him by

the throat, exclaiming: "No you don't you villain! You don't get her out of this room except

over my dead body!" And he shook him furiously.

"It's me--me--me, Bob! Do-do-don't choke me to death!" gasped old

Purley, as he struggled and freed his throat for an instant from the

grasp of Robert's hands.

But Munson throttled and shook him more furiously than before, singing

out: "Help! murder! arson! Here's this man reskying of my prisoner!" And he

shook him until his teeth rattled in his head.

"Oh, my good lord! I shall be strangled with the best of intention,"

sputtered the terrified and half-suffocated victim, as for an another

instant he freed his throat from his assailant's clasp, and breathed

again.

"Help! murder! fire!" yelled Munson, renewing the attack.

"Bob! Bob! It's me, I tell you!--Purley! Wake up and look at me! You're

asleep yet! And oh, my lord! the man will murder me by mistake before I

can make him know," panted the poor wretch, desperately striving to keep

off the strangling hands of his assailant, and growing weak in the

struggle.

And meanwhile the household, aroused by the outcry, had hurried on their

clothes, and now came pouring into the passage--the women down the

garret stairs, and the men up the lower back stairs.