“Thank God,” said Albert, with a feeling of inexpressible relief, as he felt sure now that some human beings besides himself were at hand. He withdrew himself with difficulty, from the awful-spectacle in Gray’s room, and proceeding to the head of the stairs, he said,—
“Help—help—murder—murder—murder.”
CHAPTER CVI.
The Arrest.
The sound of his own voice seemed now to conquer all the nervous feelings which had oppressed him, and Albert Seyton continued shouting for aid, until lights flashed up the narrow staircase, and several voices cried,—
“Hilloa there, what’s the matter?”
“Murder!” cried Albert. “Quick, here. There has been murder done—this way—quick, whoever you are.”
Several men now made their appearance on the stairs, and in a few moments the landing was crowded with a party bearing lights, some of whom were likewise armed.
“This way,” said Albert, pointing to the door of Gray’s room; “a man has been barbarously murdered—his corpse lies there.”
“Oh! It’s you, my spark, is it?” cried a man stepping up to Albert, who at a glance he recognised as the spy, upon Jacob Gray, who had caused him so much uneasiness.