And to my sudden horror I heard a chair move in the kitchen below.
My heart and I stood still together.

But my right hand tightened on stout wood, my right forefinger trembled against thin steel.

The sound was not repeated.

And at length I continued on my way down, my teeth set, an excuse on my lips, but determination in every fibre of my frame.
A shadow lay across the kitchen floor; it was that of the deaf mute, as he stood on a chair before the fire, supporting himself on the chimney piece with one puny arm, while he reached overhead with the other.

I stood by for an instant, glorying in the thought that he could not hear me; the next, I saw what it was he was reaching up for--a bell-mouthed blunderbuss--and I knew the little devil for the impostor that he was.
"You touch it," said I, "and you'll drop dead on that hearth." He pretended not to hear me, but he heard the click of the splendid spring which Messrs.