"Leave the house, sir!" gasped he, choking with passion. "Leave my house, or I will tear you limb from limb! I can do it, and I dare do it!" and he started suddenly to the floor. "Yes, I dare do it, if you mock me with your canting words!"
His eyes rolled like a maniac's, and he gasped for breath, as he continued,
"I am a murderer already!—a double murderer! Dalhousie and his wife have felt my vengeance. They have starved like dogs! Their prison is their tomb!"
"Compose yourself, Mr. Dumont," said Mr. Faxon; "your soul is still free from the heavy burden of such a guilt. Dalhousie and his wife live."
"You lie, canting hypocrite! No mortal arm can save them. They have been eight days in my slave jail. Here are the keys," gasped Jaspar, drawing them from his pocket.
"You shall see; I will call them," said Mr. Faxon.
Dalhousie and his wife, followed by Uncle Nathan and Pat Fegan, entered the room.
Jaspar fixed his glaring eyes upon those whom he supposed were rotting within the precincts of his Inquisition. His power of speech seemed to have deserted him, and he shook all over like an aspen-leaf.
To Jaspar alone on the estate was the secret of Dalhousie's imprisonment known. He had not approached the jail, and if any other person was aware that it had been undermined, they had not communicated the fact to him.
As the last party entered, Dr. Vaudelier turned to look upon the new comers. Starting suddenly from his chair, he approached them, and gazed with earnestness into the face of Delia.