All came and shook him by the hand, and to their friendly greeting he could reply to many: 

“Why, A., B., C., D., are you here? and here’s ’Squire F., and Constable H., as I’m alive!” and such like expressions of recognition.

When the masks were removed, Duffel had the satisfaction of seeing Bill and Dick among those present, and so soon as the League adjourned, he drew them one side, and began a confidential conversation with them; but fearing that they might be overheard, before entering upon the secrets of their own, he conducted them into the captain’s room.

This room was a curious structure.  Its walls were solid rock, naturally of a brownish-gray color, but had been painted in a tasteful style of art, with graceful nymphs, winged cupids, vases of flowers, and many other embodiments of fancy, or representations from nature.  The effect on the beholder was pleasant and cheering at first view, but a more critical observation would lead to the conclusion that there was too much of the voluptuous in the design and execution of the penciling.  In one corner of the room was a door which opened into an inner room of small dimensions, in which was a downy couch, and all the paraphernalia of a luxurious and elegant bed-room.  It was a place that contrasted very strangely with the misery and crime it had sheltered—­with the tears of unavailing agony that had been wrung from eyes that sparkled above once happy hearts—­alas! no longer the abode of peace, hope or joy.  Ah! had those walls the power of speech, what tales of horror they could rehearse! what anguish reveal! what eloquent pleadings for mercy disregarded! what silencing of hope in despair!  But they reveal not the secrets of the place, which are known to but One, from whose eye no dark dells or earth-emboweled caves can hide the transgressor; and the tears, the sighs, the blood—­aye, the blood—­of that solitary cavern are all known to Him, are all put down by the recording angel in the archives of heaven.  But we digress.

When the three confederates were securely to themselves, Duffel inquired: 

“How did you succeed in that affair.  Well, I hope, as you are so soon back.”

“Yes, better than we expected.  We passed Hadley and awaited him in the mountains.  Two pistol balls were sent through his heart, and in less than an hour his body was devoured by howling and hungry wolves, from a ravenous pack of which we escaped ourselves with difficulty, so fierce had a taste of blood rendered them!”

It will be noticed that Bill drew largely upon his imagination in this brief account of their adventures, and that he never once hinted at the real truth of the matter, and how they were driven away, and had to flee for their lives.  He knew that his story had the characteristics of probability; and he had an object in view in imposing on his superior, though he had no doubt at all of Hadley’s fate, believing him to be certainly dead.