Although my excitement was so strong, that
I remember my two hands trembling as they
laid hold of the lid, yet I paused for a moment
before raising it. Was it a dishonourable
action? My conscience told me I was justified,
and I tore the box open. I nearly dropped the
candle as my eyes beheld the contents.

First, there was a great bundle of coarse black
hair; then one of curly flaxen, like a child's:
then another of very long and silky brown—a
woman's evidently. Along with these, were
four—six—eight—rows of teeth, some large and
strong, some fine and white. A common ring
or two, a silver watch-chain, a poor cloth cap,
filled the remaining space in the box.

The horrible truth flashed upon me. I had
been brought here, not to be robbed of my
poor clothes, nor of what little coin I might
have about me. These were only to be thrown
into the bargain. They were seeking to compass
my life as they had done the lives of others,
for the sake of such possessions as these before
me—possessions independent of poverty or
wealth! I remembered the tales that had been
rife in my own country, not long before that
time, touching Burke and Hare. And I now
remembered, too, the look that Lori had given
her sister, when, in my idiotic vanity, I had
smiled and showed my teeth.

Now, I knew what was the danger to which
Gretchen, in a sudden compunction and softening
of heart towards me, had referred. Now, I
could see clearly whither every incident of the
evening tended. The beer at supper was
drugged with some strong narcotic. Gretchen
had tried to save me. Had she really done so?
I had tasted the drink; and though I never felt
wider awake in my life than I did at that horrible
moment when the sweat started out upon
my brow, in the consciousness that my life
might not be worth an hour's purchase, might
not the effect of the drug be only weakened and
retarded for awhile? The small quantity I had
imbibed had excited my brain into an abnormal
condition for the time. I had little doubt of
this. Might it not be succeeded by a reaction?
I was seized with a horrible dread of succumbing,
sooner or later, to sleep. I should then be
powerless. I cared for nothing, comparatively,
if I could only keep awake. I started up. It
was dangerous to sit still. I traversed the room
with hasty strides. I tried to turn the handle
of the door; it did not yield; it was locked on
the outside. There could be no longer a doubt
of the design against me.

The many church clocks through the old city
struck two. I listened for any movement in the
house, and once I fancied I heard some one
breathing outside my door. But I waited a long
time, and it was followed by no other sound.
Then I began to drag the bed, the table, and the
chairs, and to pile them up into a barricade
against the door. This occupied some little
time, and, work as quietly as I might, the
necessary noise prevented my hearing anything
else. It was not until my task was done that I
became conscious of something moving in the
garden, just below my window. There was a
dull low thud, as of some hard substance
striking the earth at regular intervals. I crept to
the window and looked out into the moonlight,
which was now fast disappearing behind a gabled
roof. Instead of illuminating the entire plot of
ground, the faint rays now fell slantwise into
the garden, of which more than one-half was
swallowed in black shadow. But I clearly
distinguished two figures. Do you remember
Millais's Vale of Rest? When I saw that
picture, years afterwards, I could not help
shuddering. It recalled so vividly the attitude of
the two sisters as I beheld them in that terrible
moment. The women were digging a grave;
the elder one with all her masculine energy; the
younger, reluctantly, as it seemed, removing,
with slow strokes of the spade, the black earth,
and pausing long between each. Once she
looked up, and the moonlight fell upon her wan
haggard face. She put back the long silver-
lighted hair from her brow; she leaned upon her
spade and then a whisper, like a serpent's, in
her ear, urged her to her task again.

Should I fall asleep now, I was a dead man.
I knew it. No strength, no agility, could save
me. The dread of this became so acute,
that it worked upon my imagination. I began
to think I felt drowsy. A numbness seemed
creeping over my limbs. A weight was falling
gradually on my stiffened eyelids. I prayed,
in an agony of terror, that, I might not be killed
asleep—that I might, at least, have a fight for
my life.

Suddenly Lori raised her head and listened.
The sound to which she listened—a whistle,
so low that I could scarcely hear it—was
repeated. She crept stealthily across the
garden, and raised the latch of the postern,
which evidently did not open from the outside.
A man came in, a burly thickset fellow, and the
door was closed again. The three stood together
for a moment in the moonlight. Lori and the
man looked up at my window (I took care they
should not see me), while Gretchen turned her
head away and wrung her hands. Then all three
came slowly and noiselessly towards the house.

Now or never was my moment for escape!
There was one chance for me. I had seen how
the door opened . . . . if I could manage to
reach it!. . . . But if I hesitated, a few minutes
hence the drugged beer might complete its
work, and I be unable to move hand or foot. I
opened the window softly, and looked out.
There was a drop of about twenty feet into the
garden (which, it will be remembered, was some
feet below the kitchen again). If I jumped
this, the noise must attract attention; and I
might sprain or break my leg into the bargain.
An expedient occurred to me. I had not
replaced the flooring which I had removed. The
board which ran the full length of the room,
measured nearly sixteen feet. Leaning, as far
as I could stretch, out of window, I managed to
rest one end of this board upon the ground, the
other against the house wall some four or five
feet below me.