"Well ?" he said.
There was no answer; he turned to his angel guide, and found himself alone on the tower.

He ran to the top of the ladder and looked down.
At the bottom stood Tinker regarding him with an excellent sardonic smile: "Ha! ha!" he cried in a gruff, triumphant voice, "Trapped--trapped!" And he turned on his heel.
The money-lender heard the door slam and the key turn in the lock.

He ran to the parapet, and saw Tinker mounting his pony with an easy grace and the air of one who has performed a meritorious action.
"Hi! Hullo! What are you up to ?" cried Mr.Lambert.
"Foul extortioner! Your crimes have found you out! You have consigned many a poor soul to the dungeon, it is your turn now," said Tinker with admirable grandiloquence.

Then, dropping to his ordinary voice, he added plaintively: "Of course it's not really a dungeon; it ought to be underground--with rats.

But we must make the best of it." "Look here, my lad," said Mr.Lambert thickly.