“It will not take much stretch of imagination for you to surmise, Lester Armstrong, that I am that boy upon whom you peached, and on whom, through you, such a severe penalty was inflicted.

“My hatred against you has intensified as the years rolled on, Lester Armstrong.  You are in my power; I hold your life in my hands.  Do you think if you were to pray to me on your bended knees that I would release you?  No, a thousand times no!  Every groan that falls from your lips is music to my ears.

“Again I repeat, you are at my mercy, and I will give you a dose of that same mercy which you showed me in those other days.  Ha! you turn pale, as well you may!

“Listen!  Let me tell you what I intend to do.  I think you guess it from all that has gone on before, but I will repeat it.  I intend to watch you die, inch by inch, day by day!

“They tell of a man who put himself on exhibition in New York, challenging the people to come and see him fast forty days, during which time neither food nor drink should pass his lips.

“But you will not last so long, Lester Armstrong; I think a week’s time will be your limit.  You will understand now how perfectly useless it would be to plead with me.”

“Do not imagine for one moment that I intend to do so.  I am a man of nerve and iron will, and I can die like one.  You have shackled me hand and foot and placed me in this death trap, but your ears shall not be greeted with any moans or cries of complaint.  The vengeance you have mapped out will fall short in that.”

A sneer broke from Halloran’s lips; he could not help but admire the dauntless courage of the man before him, but he would not have admitted it for anything the wide world held.  With a fiendish laugh that rang in Lester’s ears for long hours afterward, Halloran turned and left him, sauntering into the outer room and banging and locking the door after him.

It was a night never to be forgotten by Lester to the last day of his life.  His mouth was parched with thirst; the blood in his veins seemed turning to lava, and his eyes were scorched in their sockets.

Once the door suddenly opened and Halloran thrust in his head, exclaiming: 

“Let me give you a piece of news to dream over, my dear fellow:  Your Cousin, Kendale, is with the beauteous Faynie just now, probably holding her in his arms, kissing the lovely rosebud mouth.  ’Pon my honor.  I envy the lucky dog; don’t you?”

The door closed quite as quickly again, and Lester was alone with his bitter thoughts.

“What have I done that a just God should torture me thus?” he cried out in an agony so intense that great beads of cold perspiration gathered on his forehead and rolled unheeded down his white cheeks.  “If he tortured me to the gates of death I could endure it, but the very thought that my innocent darling, my beautiful, tender little Faynie, is in that dastardly villain’s power, fairly goads me to madness.  Oh, Heaven! if I but had the strength of Samson for but a single hour, to burst these cruel bonds asunder and fly to my dear one’s side!”