Slung-Shot was there,—not on the watch precisely,—but with his brawny arms resting on the table, and his head bent on his arms. He was fast asleep, and snoring vigorously. An empty brandy bottle which stood near the light, explained the cause of his sleep. Arthur glanced at the door, which opened on the stairway, and then—"Can I cross the room and open the door without waking this wretch?" was his thought.
Slung-Shot, although by no means tall, was evidently a fellow of muscle, as his broad shoulders, (inclosed in a red flannel shirt) and his half-bared arms, served to show. His face was buried against the table, and Arthur could only see the back of his head; his hair closely cut, his long ears, and the greasy locks which draggled in front of each ear, were disclosed in the flickering light.
Arthur, after a moment of hesitation, advanced,—the boards creaked under his tread,—still the ruffian did not move, but snored on, in a deep, sonorous bass. Arthur placed his hand on the latch of the door—
The ruffian then moved. He raised his sleepy head, and Arthur beheld that brutal face, with its low forehead, broken nose and projecting under-jaw.
"S-a-y," he cried, in that peculiar dialect, which, accompanied by an elongation of the lower-jaw, forms the patois of a class of ruffians which infests the large cities, "what de thunder you 'bout?"
Arthur grasped his iron bar, but stood motionless as stone, awaiting the assault of the ruffian.
"Dat you Dirk?" continued Slung-Shot, rolling his eyes with a drunken stare; "why de thunder don't you let a feller sleep?—" and then came a round of oaths, uttered in that peculiar dialect, with the lower-jaw elongated and the head shaking briskly, from side to side. After which Slung-Shot sank to sleep again. He had mistaken Arthur for his comrade.
Arthur lifted the latch, and in a moment was ascending the narrow staircase, which led to the hall on the first floor. At the head of the stair was a door, which he opened, and found himself on a carpeted floor, but in utter darkness.
He could hear the beating of his heart, as pausing in the thick darkness, he bent his head and listened.
Not a sound was heard throughout the mansion.