“All is quiet,” he said, in a low whisper to his companion. “I will climb on to the top of the wall, and then help you up. We will soon make light work of it.”
But scarcely were these words uttered, when a dark shadow appeared at the end of the lane—and in another moment Jack Rily and Mrs. Mortimer beheld a man hastening towards them.
The old woman instinctively drew close up to her powerful confederate for protection, in case mischief should be intended; and scarcely was this movement effected, when the cause of apprehension was close up to the spot where she and Rily were standing in the deep shade of the wall.
At that instant the moon-beams fell fully upon the man’s countenance; and a cry of horror burst from the lips of Mrs. Mortimer as she recognised her terrible enemy—Vitriol Bob! Simultaneously with that cry, an ejaculation of rage escaped from Jack Rily, who, dashing the old woman away from him, sprang towards the formidable foe.
But ere the sounds of the cry and the ejaculation had died in the air, Vitriol Bob, nimbly eluding the attack of the Doctor, raised above his head something which his right hand grasped; and although the blow was intended for Jack Rily, it fell with an ominous crash full upon the countenance of Mrs. Mortimer, who, striving to escape, but bewildered by terror, was running across the lane, in front of Vitriol Bob, at the instant.
Then—O heavens! what a shriek of agony—what a yell of indescribable anguish broke upon the silence of the night—rending the air with its piercing sound, and raising echoes of even more horrifying wildness throughout the neighbourhood.
Vitriol Bob fled in one direction—Jack Rily in another; and the old woman was abandoned, alike by friend and foe, to her wretched fate!
But—see! the lights gleam in the windows of the very villa which was to have been the scene of a horrible murder: the painful yells, which still continue to beat the air with their agonising vibrations, have aroused the Count of Carignano—aroused also the lovely creature in whose arms he was sleeping. The valet and Rosalie likewise start from their respective couches; and the young Italian nobleman and the man-servant, having hastily thrown on some clothing, descend into the street.
The cries proceed from the lane: they rush to the spot—and there upon the ground they behold a female writhing like a stricken snake, evidently in the most horrible tortures.
What can it mean?