The whisper was distinct, hoarse, and uttered so as to shew that the speaker was desirous of being heard by some one near, but, at the same time, studious to avoid being overheard by any other.
"Stop, stop, I say; madman as you are! there are better means than that.
Curse upon your rashness! There is no need to shoot." Such were the words uttered in a tone of eagerness and anger, within so small a distance of my pillow.

What construction could I put upon them?
My heart began to palpitate with dread of some unknown danger.
Presently, another voice, but equally near me, was heard whispering in answer.

"Why not?
I will draw a trigger in this business, but perdition be my lot if I do more." To this, the first voice returned, in a tone which rage had heightened in a small degree above a whisper, "Coward! stand aside, and see me do it.

I will grasp her throat; I will do her business in an instant; she shall not have time so much as to groan." What wonder that I was petrified by sounds so dreadful! Murderers lurked in my closet.

They were planning the means of my destruction.