In a short time they reached the tool-house, where he threw Fenton on a heap of apples, like a bag, and left him to lie in cold and darkness, as if he were some noxious animal, whom it would be dangerous to set at large.

He then locked the door, put the key in his pocket, and went to acquaint the baronet with the success of his mission.
The latter, on understanding from Gillespie that Fenton was not only secured, but that his suspicions as to his identity were correct, desired him to have the carriage ready in the course of about an hour.
He had already written a letter, containing a liberal enclosure, to the person into whose merciless hands he was about to commit him.

In the meantime, it is impossible to describe the confused character of his feelings--the tempest, the tornado of passions, that swept through his dark and ambitious spirit.
"This is the third time," he thought to himself, as he paced the room in such a state of stormy agitation as reacted upon himself, and tilled him with temporary alarm.

His heart beat powerfully, his pulsations were strong and rapid, and his brain felt burning and tumultuous.
Occasional giddiness also seized him, accompanied by weakness about the knee-joints, and hoarseness in the throat.

In fact, once or twice he felt as if he were about to fall.