He immediately called out, but at the cry the light disappeared.

This did not prevent him from making towards the spot where he had seen it; but he had not proceeded far when he was forcibly seized by some unseen person, thrown on the ground, and a drawn sword--for he felt the point--placed at his throat.
"Utter a cry, and it is your last," cried a stern voice.

"Where is he ?" "Who--who ?" demanded Blaize, half dead with terror.
"He whom you appointed to meet," replied the unknown.
"I appointed to meet no one," rejoined Blaize.
"Liar!" exclaimed the other; "if you do not instantly lead me to him, I will cut your throat." "I will lead you wherever you please, if you will only let me get up," rejoined Blaize, with difficulty repressing a cry.
"By the daughters of Nox and Acheron!" exclaimed a voice which sounded like music in the porter's ears, "I think you are mistaken in your man, my lord.

It does not sound like the apprentice's voice." "It is _not_ the apprentice's voice, good Major Pillichody," rejoined the porter.

"It is mine, your friend--Blaize's." "Blaize!" exclaimed Pillichody, unmasking a dark lantern, and revealing the terror-stricken countenance of the porter; "so it is.