"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. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped. The ledge, along which he crawled, was about a foot wide. Then Manning flopped back in his chair and dropped his chin like a man shot. "Silence!" returned Jackson, in a deep whisper; "and don't muddle your brains with any more of that Pharaoh. Not that it would make any difference if he was alive still.
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