Clarence bent down anxiously, in the hope that some solitary ray would escape through the crevice of the door within which the robbers were engaged.
But though the sounds came from the same floor as that on which he now trod, they seemed far and remote, and not a gleam of light broke the darkness.
He continued, however, to feel his way in the direction from which the sounds proceeded, and soon found himself in a narrow gallery; the voices seemed more loud and near, as he advanced; at last he distinctly heard the words-- "Will you not confess where it is placed ?" "Indeed, indeed," replied an eager and earnest voice, which Clarence recognized as Talbot's, "this is all the money I have in the house,--the plate is above,--my servant has the key,--take it,--take all,--but save his life and mine." "None of your gammon," said another and rougher voice than that of the first speaker: "we know you have more blunt than this,--a paltry sum of fifty pounds, indeed!" "Hold!" cried the other ruffian, "here is a picture set with diamonds, that will do, Ben.

Let go the old man." Clarence was now just at hand, and probably from a sudden change in the position of the dark lantern within, a light abruptly broke from beneath the door and streamed along the passage.
"No, no, no!" cried the old man, in a loud yet tremulous voice,--"no, not that, anything else, but I will defend that with my life." "Ben, my lad," said the ruffian, "twist the old fool's neck we have no more time to lose." At that very moment the door was flung violently open, and Clarence Linden stood within three paces of the reprobates and their prey.

The taller villain had a miniature in his hand, and the old man clung to his legs with a convulsive but impotent clasp; the other fellow had already his gripe upon Talbot's neck, and his right hand grasped a long case-knife.
With a fierce and flashing eye, and a cheek deadly pale with internal and resolute excitement, Clarence confronted the robbers.
"Thank Heaven," cried he, "I am not too late!" And advancing yet another step towards the shorter ruffian, who struck mute with the suddenness of the apparition, still retained his grasp of the old man, he fired his pistol, with a steady and close aim; the ball penetrated the wretch's brain, and without sound or sigh, he fell down dead, at the very feet of his just destroyer.

The remaining robber had already meditated, and a second more sufficed to accomplish, his escape.

He sprang towards the door: the ball whizzed beside him, but touched him not.