"I shall be murdered,—I know I shall," he muttered, when the light shone on his frightened face again. Blossom stood in the doorway, beckoning to him.
Somers advanced and crossed the threshold.
"Look there," whispered Blossom "now d'ye believe me?"
A huge man, dressed in the jacket and trowsers of a convict, was sleeping on the bed, his head thrown back, his mouth wide open, and one arm hanging over the bedside. His chest heaved with long, deep respirations, and his nostrils emitted a snore of frightful depth.
At this confirmation of the truth of Blossom's statement, Mr. Somers' face became as white as his cravat.
"Look there!" whispered Blossom, pointing to a pistol which lay upon the carpet, almost within reach of the brawny hand which hung over the bed-side.
"Good God! ejaculated Somers.
"Now look there!" Blossom pointed to the brandy bottle on the table, and held the light near it. "Empty! d'ye see?"
Then Blossom drew from his capacious pocket, certain pieces of rope, each of which was attached to the middle of a piece of hickory, as hard as iron.
"Hold the light," and like a nurse attending to a sleeping babe, the ingenious Blossom gently attached one of the aforesaid pieces of rope to the ankles of the sleeper, in such a manner, that the two pieces of hickory,—one at either end of the rope,—formed a knot, which a giant would have found it hard to break. As the ankles rested side by side, this feat was not so difficult.