Meet me at midnight by the seashore, half a mile to the left of your hotel,--you will know the spot by a rude pillar, the only one near--, to which a broken chain is attached.

There and then will be the crisis of your fate; go.

I have business here yet,--remember, Isabel is still in the house of the dead man." As Glyndon yet hesitated, strange thoughts, doubts, and fears that longed for speech crowding within him, Mascari approached; and Zicci, turning to the Italian and waving his hand to Glyndon, drew the former aside.

Glyndon slowly departed.
"Mascari," said Zicci, "your patron is no more.

Your services will be valueless to his heir,--a sober man, whom poverty has preserved from vice.