"Mere fancy!" I said to myself, as some one went past the door at the moment. "My mind is over-excited."
Still I raised my head, supporting it with my hand, and listened, directing my attention inside, and not outside of the room. I was about letting my head fall back upon the pillow, when a slight cough, so distinct as not to be mistaken, caused me to spring to the floor, and look under the bed. The mystery was explained. A pair of eyes glittered in the candlelight. The fugitive, Green, was under my bed. For some moments I stood looking at him, so astonished that I had neither utterance nor decision; while he glared at me with a fierce defiance. I saw that he was clutching a revolver.
"Understand!" he said, in a grating whisper, "that I am not to be taken alive."
I let the blanket, which had concealed him from view, fall from my hand, and then tried to collect my thoughts.
