CHAPTER III.—(Continued.) THE TRAP DOOR.

Tuapeka Times, Volume III, Issue 170, 11 May 1871, Page 7

CHAPTER lll.— (Continued.) THE TRAP DOOR.

I felt convinced that my weight would offer no efficient obstacle to the opening of the trap ; and then the disadvantage of being thrown from it. The thought came — " Why not take a position and fire npon the assassins as they come up," The thought passed away. A Christian man feels an indefinable repugnance, even while in imminent peril of a violent death, to the shedding of blood. So I stood on the trap, waiting, while at his every step the ladder groaned under the weight of the gigantic Lieutenant of the brigand Gonsalvo la Diable, A. few seconds of stupefied suspense ; then a bolt was being withdrawn under my feet. It did not move easily. Why ? In an instant a horrid picture j flashed upon my mind. Acted upon by an impulse so swift in its operation that it outstripped recognisable thought, I changed my position ; then the bolt was withdrawn ; without the slightest, noise the trap opened — downward. Now a terrible alternative was upon me. I must either shed the blood of fellowmen, or permit myself to be murdered, and leave a memory that [ would be a life-long mystery to those who trusted, and those who loved me. While I hesitated, the fanner and his villanous prompter were in the room. Longer to hesitate was death. I discharged my pistols simultaneously. Both shots took effect. With a fearful yell the farmer fell backwards and disappeared down the trap. The j crash and groan that followed thrill me with horror even at this distance of time. His confederate lay on his face, moaning feebly. My impulse was to hurry to his aid, but the instinct of self- preservation whispered, "Caution;" then the injunctions of the merchant passed on my mind, so I first drew up the ladder by which the trap was reached, and reloaded my pistols. While doing so, I became aware that the tumult of the conflict had died away, aud that the hissing, crackling sound of approaching fire could be distinctly heard. Was I forgotten by the man of the bracclst? was he killed ? were the bauditti triumphant? Such were my thoughts as, with a pistol in one hand and a candle in the other. I approached the wounded man. " Off, off," he shrieked, as I continued to approach him ; " Mercy," he cried, aud, with a convulsive start, he rolled on his back. The light fell full on his face. Incredible ! Judge of my surprise and horror when I reeoguised Paul Fourier. As when by night, a stream of lightuing pours into your chamber, every shadowy object therein leaps for a moment into awful distinctness, so the gleam of that face, with the evil which the inverted torch of death reveals, visible upon it, instantly illuminated my mind. The mystery was solved. Paul Fourier was the agent of Gonsalvo. Paul Fourier gained the confidence of Frank Fenwick, and led him into the power of too brigand. Paul's devotion to my friend was a sham, its object being that he might establish himpelf in a position in London, wherein he might serve his real master, La Diable. Paul Fourier had succeeded. Mr. Bullion and myself had been his dupes. My present position and the surrounding horrora were the result. The sense of humiliation which I experienced was very painful, but it was speedily dissipated. I heard the door of the outer apartment thrown open. Then there was the sound of many feet on the floor, and presently a quick decisive knocking at the door leading 1 to my room, " Who knocks ?" I cried. " Will Monsieur be so kind as to withdraw the bolts ?" was the answer. " Who asks me to do so ?" I enquired. " Ittonsieur's caution is commendable," said the speaker. "Then he continued in a voice which I easily recognised as that of the eldest merchant, "I, Pierre Nicole, Prefect of Police, sometime diamond merchant of Pesancon, and the intimate friend of that good man, Monsieur Lescure." There was a very perceptible sneer, which I could not understand, in the tone of the speaker while uttering the last sentence. In a few minutes I understood it. I withdrew the bolt and opened the door. Leisurely Pierre Nicole entered my room, smoking a cigar and looking as cool as if nothing unpleasant had occurred. " Monsieur has had his share of the sport. This is very satisfactory," he said, cheerfully/ glancing while he spoke at the wounded wretch on the floor. I bowed. Theu he said, " Monsieur will please to accompany me." I bowed again, and we passed into the o*uter room. There a singular and terrible scene presented itself. The first thing which I distrnptly observed was that the floor was covered ■with broken furniture, fire arms, and ■ blood. Next, that three motionless figures lay in one of the beds — -men of our party — dead. Lastly, and here my attention was rivetted, that on the other bed, even to the eye, painfully bound lay the studsnt. " Ha, friend

student," I thought, " we are likely to hear your voice before this little drama is played out." I was mistaken. Walking up to the bed, Pierre Nicole addressed his prisoner in a tone of mock politeness that, acting on my English sense of what is due to a | fallen enemy, threatened to extinguish my gratitude to the diamond merchant. " Monsieur," he said, " will oblige his humble servant by accompanying him to Pesancon. In Pesancou, distinguished people have for a long time been anticipating the pleasure of Monsieur's company. There are iuteresting ceremonies awaiting Monsieur's visit to Pesancon, doubtless, they will afford Monsieur great pleasure. What a stir there will be when the good citizens know that Monsieur has honoured them by a visit." The man's cold pitiless tone displeased mo. He continued : — " Personally, I thank Monsieur. I will be greatly profited by his condescending to enter Pesancon in my poor company; ten thousand thanks, Monsieur." Who can command the emotions of the heart. It would have been for me at that moment a very hard task to have decided which of those two men I most heartily detested — the man who had becu instrumental in saving my life, or the man who had schemed to take it away. " What is there in this Pierre Nicole's victory," cried chivalrie English feeling, " that he should indulge in this mean verbal exultation. Bad as this Gonsalvo la Diable unquestionably is, did he ever plot to steal his saddlebags ?" At this point the mouth of chivalrie English feeling was rudely closed. During Pierre Nicole's mocking speech, the expression on the face of the student had never changed — was the same expression it wore while reading his book. They lifted him iVem the bed, but, notwithstanding the pain he must have suffered, bound as he was, the expression did not change. His altered position brought me full in his view — then, what a blaze of passion burst out on his face ! I had done him a mortal injury. I had escaped from his net. Perhaps he thought I had done more. Thvi flame of passion died away in his face, as suddenly as it had blazed out, and he was the student again. All this occurred in an instant, but in that instant Pierre Nicole, the apostle of the law, regained his former position in my esteeu. One of Nicole's men appeared in the open door-way ; without betraying the slightest emotion, he said — " The roof will be down in a 'ew minutes." In an instant all was well arranged haste. Saddle-bags in hand — 1 had never lost sight of them — I hurried towards the kitchen. At every step, every article, every wall, bore silent testimony to the desperate character of the conflict that had taken place. The stair rail was broken and cut ; the walls were perforated with bullets — blood everywhere — I reached the kitchen. On the floor lay dead; "wounded, and bound, some twenty miserable beings. There was in the an umvholeseme crushed tumult — a complication of groans, prayers, and oaths. No portion of the white floor of the previous evening was visible. Bodies and blood, nothing' beside. My comely hostess was seated in a corner, bound in a chair. The look of honesty had vanished. Were the face of man or woman photographed during a moment of intense, suppressed excitement, how many deeply concealed evil traits of character would rise — revelatious. Looking on the woman, I instantly detected her relationship to Gonsalvo. She was his sister. The fact was made public on her trial, but I knew it at that moment. On the flooi*, bound, lay mine host, white with terror. Orders were given by Nicole that the wounded and the prisoners should be removed. This was done with alacrity. The fiery monitions were now frequent and unmistakable. Tiie wounded of our party were first removed, the prisoners next, and lastly the wounded of the bauditti. While this was being done, I learned from Nicole the followiug particulars :—ln: — In his arrangements there had been no waste of precaution or preparation. His information on all essential points Tiad been accurate. He politely declined saying "from what source it had been derived, and T <lid not say " Monsieur Nicole, 'I know its source as well as you do." He told me he knew the habits of Gonsalvo ; that tLe bandit chief never moved alone. He (Nicole) had been informed that on the present occasion, for reasons having no reference to me, Gonsalvo was iikely to have a larger following than usual. That the Aubergo had been set on fire by his (Pierre Nicole's) orders, that the banditti might be drawn, in the consternation of the first alarm, from the places of their concealment. That the fire had progressed with greater rapidity than he had calculated upon. That ta the fire we, in all probability, were indebted for our lives. That the number of the banditti exceeded his computation. That they were men used to sudden and desperate exigencies. That, though partly unarmed, and wholly without order, they had disputed every inch, of ground "with a courage that would have earned glory in a, noble cause. " One glance from their chief," cried Nicole, with the natural enthusiasm of a brave man, " and the blazing pile would have been our funeral pyre. But that was cared

for," said he proudly. "I bad" At this point a crashing noise overhead silenced every tongue. The last of the wounded was being removed ; he dropped heavily from the hands that held him. A frantic rush — then Nicole and T were alone with the wounded wretch. " Monsieur," cried Nicole, throwing away his cigar. I understood him. We seized the wounded man and carried him out. We were a few yards beyond the threshold when, with a crash that might have silenced the stars, the roof fell in, and the Auberge 1' Roy was a mass of smouldering ruins. (To be conthmed.)