kles, and Peter waddling
ahead, the graybeard gripping my arm, we climbed the steps, and entered
the hall. A tall, slim negro, evidently a house-servant from his sleek
appearance, eying me curiously, handed the little fellow a second lighted
candle, and the three of us went tramping along the wide hall, past the
circling stairs, until we came to a door at the rear. This the black
flung open, without a word, and I was led down into the basement. The
flickering candle yielded but glimpses of great rooms, beautifully
decorated, and, almost before I realized what was occurring, I had been
thrust into a square apartment, the door behind me closed and locked. The
two guards left the sputtering candle, perhaps a third burned, behind,
and I heard them stumbling back through the darkness to the foot of the
stairs. I glanced about curiously, shaking the loosened rope from my
wrists, my mind instantly reverting to the chance of escape. Whoever
these fellows might be, whatever their purpose, I had no intention of
remaining in their hands a moment longer than necessary. Somehow their
silence, their mysterious movements, had impressed me with a strange
feeling of fear which I could not analyze. I could not believe myself a
mere prisoner of war, but rather as being held for some private purpose
yet to be revealed. Yet the room offered little promise. It was nearly
square, the walls of stone solidly imbedded in mortar, the door of oak,
thickly studded with nails, and the two small windows protected by thick
iron bars. It was a cell so strong that a single glance about convinced
me of the hopelessness of any attempt at breaking out. The furniture
consisted of a small table, two very ordinary chairs, and an iron bunk
fastened securely to the floor. I sat down on one of the chairs, and
stared moodily about, endeavoring to think over the events of the night,
and to devise some method of action. I could hear the muffled sound of
steps above, and the opening and closing of doors. Once the rattle of
crockery reached me, and I believed my captors were at lunch. I tried the
bars at the windows, and endeavored to dig my knife-blade into the
mortar, but it was as hard as the stone. Discouraged, feeling utterly
helpless, I threw myself on the bunk in despair.

I was not there to exceed ten minutes when, without warning, the lock
clicked, and Peter came in. I sat up quickly, but as instantly he had
closed the door, and actually stood there grinning