“I will do it.  So good an opportunity may never occur again.”

Upon this he arose, and paced the room hastily backwards and forwards, as if further arranging his plans.  He then unlocked a cabinet, opened a secret drawer, and, lifter ransacking its contents, discovered a paper he was in search of, and a glove.  Laying these carefully aside, he restored the drawer to its place.  His next occupation was to take out his pistols, examine the priming, and rub the flints.  His sword then came in for his scrutiny:  he felt at, and appeared satisfied with its edge.  This employment seemed to afford him the highest satisfaction; for a diabolical grin—­it cannot be called a smile—­played upon his face all the time he was engaged in it.  His sword done with, he took up the bludgeon; balanced it in his hand; upon the points of his fingers; and let it fall with a smash, intentionally, upon the table.

“After all,” he said, “this is the safest weapon.  No instrument I’ve ever used has done me such good service.  It shall be the bludgeon.”  So saying, he slung it upon his wrist.

Taking up a link, which was blazing beside him, he walked across the room; and touching a spring in the wall, a secret door flew open.  Beyond was a narrow bridge, crossing a circular building, at the bottom of which lay a deep well.  It was a dark mysterious place, and what it was used for no one exactly knew; but it was called by those who had seen it the Well Hole.  The bridge was protected on either side by a railing with bannisters placed at wide intervals.  Steps to aid the descent, which was too steep to be safe without them, led to, a door on the opposite side.  This door, which was open, Jonathan locked and took out the key.  As he stood upon the bridge, he held down the light, and looked into the profound abyss.  The red glare fell upon the slimy brick-work, and tinged the inky waters below.  A slight cough uttered by Jonathan at the moment awakened the echoes of the place, and was returned in hollow reverberations.  “There’ll be a louder echo here presently,” thought Jonathan.  Before leaving the place he looked upwards, and could just discern the blue vault and pale stars of Heaven through an iron grating at the top.

On his return to the room, Jonathan purposely left the door of the Well Hole ajar.  Unlocking a cupboard, he then took out some cold meat and other viands, with a flask of wine, and a bottle of brandy, and began to eat and drink voraciously.  He had very nearly cleared the board, when a knock was heard below, and descending at the summons, he found his two janizaries.  They had both been unsuccessful.  As Jonathan scarcely expected a more satisfactory result, he made no comment; but, ordering Quilt to continue his search, and not to return until he had found the fugitive, called Abraham Mendez into the house, and shut the door.

“I want you for the job I spoke of a short time ago, Nab,” he said.  “I mean to have no one but yourself in it.  Come up stairs, and take a glass of brandy.”