"Now you can understand that I am determined!" cried the avenger. "And here shall I remain until all is over with you, Tidkins. No! I shall now and then steal out for short intervals at a time, to procure food—food to sustain me, while you are starving in your coffin!"
"Infernal wretch!" shouted Tidkins: "you are mistaken! I will not die by starvation, if die I must. I have matches with me—and in a moment I can blow the entire house—aye, and half the street along with it—into the air!"
"You will not frighten me, Tidkins," said Crankey Jem, in a cool and taunting tone.
"Damnation!" thundered the Resurrection Man, chafing against the door like a maddened hyena in its cage: "will neither prayers nor threats move you? Then must I do my worst!"
Crankey Jem heard him stride across the dungeon; but still the avenger remained at his post,—leaning against the door, and greedily drinking in each groan—each curse—each execration—and each howl, that marked the intense anguish endured by the Resurrection Man.
Presently James Cuffin heard the sharp sound of a match as it was drawn rapidly along the wall.
He shuddered—but moved not.
Solemn was the silence which now prevailed for a few moments: at length an explosion—low and subdued, as of a small quantity of gunpowder—took place in the cell.
But it was immediately followed with a terrific cry of agony; and the Resurrection Man fell heavily against the door.
"My eyes! my eyes!" he exclaimed, in a tone indicative of acute pain: "O God! I am blinded!"