The Bloomfield times. [volume] (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1867-187?, 1870-04-26

more so it came about that while he bal
anced in his mind the pros and cons as to
revealing to his wife the secret which Blk
by had confided to him, and thus giving
her fright in advance for what might prove
to be false alarm after all, the tired lady
went sound asleep and thus the scale was
turned in favor of reticence. Perhaps the
husband S continued drowsiness contributed
to the resolve also for his eyelids still
dropped with strange obstinacy, and an in
fluence more powerful than even the ap-
prehension of danger transformed his ter
rors into dreams.
One, two, rang out from the Belfry on
the breathless June night, already heavy
with the rising fog from the river. Foster
HoughtOn found himself broad awake as he
counted the strokes; but even while he
thought it was the clock that had disturb
ed him, he felt cold, hard ring of steel
against his temple, and saw through the
darkness, man by his bedside.
"Not one word, or you will never utter
another"
He noted the voice even in the whirl of
the moment, and knew that it was strange
to him. He turned towards his wife and
saw that there was a man by her side also,
with arevolver aimed felt, rather than saw
that she had walked when he did, and was
awaiting, self-possessed, for whatever was
to come, AS the darkness yielded to his
eyes, he was aware of third figure, stand
ing at the window.
Perfectly quiet, remember, and we will
tell you what is to lie donc," said the same
voice, cool, firm, with an utterance entirely
distinct, yet hardly louder than whisper.
You have nothing to fear if you obey Or
ders. A knife is ready for the heart of
each if you disobey. The lady has simply
to lie still as she will be bound to the bed
and her mouth stopped, that will be easy
and the gag is very gentle, and will not
hurt if she does not resist Mr.. Houghton
will rise, put on his trousers and 90 with
us to the bank, always in range of this pis-
tol and in reach of this blade. The KEYS
are already in my pocket. Number Three,
will you scratch a match that l may help
the gentleman to his clothes"
The figure in the window stepped noise
lessly forward at the summons AS the
blue flame lighted the room Foster Hough-
ton observed that his visitors were all mask
ed with black silk, through which q narrow
split permitted vision. He noticed that
their feet were shod with listing, so thick
that step made no audible sound upon the
straw carpet. He noticed that long, thin,
black cloaks covered their forms to the
ankles, so that no details of clothing could
be noted to identify them. And while he
observed these things, not venturing to stir
until the threatening muzzle was withdrawn
from his face, he felt his hand tightly
clutched by the fingers of his wife beneath
the coverlid.
Years of familiar association had made
him apt at interpreting his wife's thoughts
and feelings without the aid of the spoken
word. Either by some peculiar expression
in the grasp itself, or by that subtle mag
netism which we know exists among the
unknown forces, he felt that there was
something more than natural terror of the
moment, more than the courage of heart
ever braver than his own, more than SYM
patty for his own supposed dismay, in his
wiie's snatch at his hand. More alarmed
at the instant, by the shock thus given him
by the more palpable danger, he turned his
head towards his wife again, and in her
eyes and in the direction they gave to his,
saw ali that she had seen.
The masked figure in the centre of the
room, in producing MATCH had unwitting-
ly thrown back one side of it's cloak. By
the sickly flame just turning to white, Fos-
ter Houghton saw, thus revealed, the twist
ed chain he had played with in his own
boyhood, tho golden crescent with his