him out!" At this moment the spring was touched that opened a door which led into the apartment. "Stand by me, men!" exclaimed the leader, with cool but determined courage. 66 Aye, aye! all right. Lead on." They approached the door, crouching, like so many tigers, to prevent alarm, and waited quietly for their prey. The door opened, and the unfortunate Blue-devils was the first to enter, holding in his hand a horsepistol, and leading the way for a posse of constables that followed in his rear. The moment Devilskin perceived him, with a stroke of his cutlass he knocked the pistol out of his hand, and quick as thought, cut him on the head. He rolled bleeding, and apparently lifeless, on the floor. “Don't let them escape," he said. "Hem them in-quick, or we are lost!" An adjoining door communicated with the entrance, and three or four of the smugglers ran round. The constables, in their consternation, believed they had been betrayed, and gave themselves up without a struggle. "Ho! ho!" shouted Devilskin, with an air of triumph. Gentlemen officers of justice, we are prepared for your reception-for your entertainment! Bind them fast. I shall be with you in a minute. I must reconnoitre." He rushed into the place which the smugglers had just quitted. There was a dormer window that looked into the road. He bounded through it with as much agility as Harlequin in a pantomime through a pawnbroker's window. Outside, were Captain Carlos and Peter Laurel, waiting the issue. "That's he!" roared the captain, "trying to escape from justice. Seize him!” Before the captain had time to collect his energies for the conflict, Devilskin was upon him. He threw him to the earth with terrific force, and trampled upon him savagely. "Our reckoning is yet to come!" was the prophetic exclamation. "I spare your life now, paltry dastard, only to take more signal vengeance on you hereafter!" Peter Laurel wished himself safely out of this awkward fray, but just as he was preparing to take flight, the smuggler grasped him tightly. There was a deep, dirty gutter under the window, into which he pitched the retreating Peter with as much ease as a boy strikes a shuttlecock. Splash he went over head and ears into the puddle, and before he had time to open his eyes, the smuggler was out of sight. "Captain Carlos," exclaimed Peter, when he had time to breathe, and to think-for self was ever uppermost in his thoughts-" Who is to pay me for spoiling my best suit of clothes ?" "D-n your clothes!" was the soothing rejoinder of the infuriated mariner. CHAPTER X. O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea, BYRON'S Corsair. One morning a respectably dressed man entered the shop of Stirrup, the saddler, in Castle Ditch. In the wild and peculiar expression of his face, and, more especially, in the unsettled glance of his eye, there was something indescribably strange-something which showed that he was labouring under great mental excitement, if not mental aberration. "A person named Laurel," said the stranger, addressing the tradesman, who stood behind the counter in his shirt sleeves, his spare waist girded with a white apron, "Is, I believe, to be seen, or, at least, to be heard of here ?" 66 Well, sir ?" said the saddler. "My name is Fracture, sir. Some time ago, Mr. Laurel, be it known to you, in desiring me to accommodate him with a seat in the Chapel of our Lady," better known, it may be, as the Church of St. Nicholas, which abuts on the waters of the Mersey, did, in consideration thereof, agree to pay me the sum of five pounds, lawful coin of this realm. To the said Mr. Laurel I was unwilling to grant the favour which he sought except on payment down of the money, for the pew was not more than sufficient for the use of the beloved of my bosom, Hester Fracture, our four little Fractures, and my eldest daughter. I referred him to the wardens of the church, but he returned to me again, and declared that the only pew which suited his pious purpose was mine, for it was next to that of the Carlos's, indeed, immediately behind it. It grieves me to suspect that the ungodly man has been moved by the spirit of Mammon rather than by a thirst for the waters of life in seeking an alliance with us in prayer. Now, I wish you distinctly to tell the said Laurel, that although inclined to godliness, I am not insensible to interest, simple or compound, and that if he will not pay me the promised sum, I will take the small liberty of breaking every bone in his unrighteous body the next time we happen to meet. I know nothing about the man, and the House of Prayer, if I can prevent it, shall not be converted into a den of thieves." And having left behind him this consolatory message of love and charity, Mr. Laurel's creditor stalked out of the shop. "Yon mon's mad!" said the worthy shopkeeper, as he proceeded into the inner recesses of the establishment to communicate with his promising relative: "Mad as a March hare, Peter. If ye canna pay him the five pound, which yer in honour bound to do, ye had better lose no time in getting him an order for the Lunatic, unless, indeed, ye wish to incur a surgeon's bill of double the amount. The mon's not to be trifled with, Peter. It's the sharpest way of demanding payment o' the siller that I can call to mind! Bless us, he's made me quite nervous! The very look o' the madman is enow to terrify an honest Christian. I wish ye weel out o' his hands, my lad!" This intelligence, it may be imagined, was not particularly gratifying to Mr. Laurel; but he was fruitful in resources, and determined to turn the incident to the best account. He had an assignation with Miss Carlos the same evening, and as punctuality formed one of the features of his character, he was on the ground before the lady. The place was somewhat distant from the town, as the lovers were anxious to avoid observation, and more especially to shun parties who were likely to recognise either. Accordingly, they met in what was then known as the Rector's Fields, a large plot of grass |