There are a score among ye whom I see now and know, who are dead men from this hour.

Begone! and rob an undertaker's while you can! You'll want some coffins before long.' 'Will you come down ?' cried Hugh.
'Will you give me my daughter, ruffian ?' cried the locksmith.
'I know nothing of her,' Hugh rejoined.

'Burn the door!' 'Stop!' cried the locksmith, in a voice that made them falter--presenting, as he spoke, a gun.

'Let an old man do that.

You can spare him better.' The young fellow who held the light, and who was stooping down before the door, rose hastily at these words, and fell back.