nd
myself able to confront the future with tolerable calmness.

What would it be best for me to do? Ought I to attempt to make my
escape? I did not despair of succeeding; but when I began to think of
the consequences of success, I hesitated. My chief object now was, not
so much to secure my own freedom, as to find my way to Alicia. I had
never been so deeply and desperately in love with her as I was now, when
I knew she was separated from me. Suppose I succeeded in escaping from
the clutches of Doctor Dulcifer--might I not be casting myself uselessly
on the world, without a chance of finding a single clew to trace her
by? Suppose, on the other hand, that I remained for the present in
the red-brick house--should I not by that course of conduct be putting
myself in the best position for making discoveries?

In the first place, there was the chance that Alicia might find some
secret means of communicating with me if I remained where I was. In the
second place, the doctor would, in all probability, have occasion to
write to his daughter, or would be likely to receive letters from her;
and, if I quieted all suspicion on my account, by docile behavior,
and kept my eyes sharply on the lookout, I might find opportunities of
surprising the secrets of his writing-desk. I felt that I need be under
no restraints of honor with a man who was keeping me a prisoner, and who
had made an accomplice of me by threatening my life. Accordingly,
while resolving to show outwardly an amiable submission to my fate, I
determined at the same time to keep secretly on the watch, and to take
the very first chance of outwitting Doctor Dulcifer that might happen
to present itself. When we next met I was perfectly civil to him. He was
too well-bred a man not to match me on the common ground of courtesy.

"Permit me to congratulate you," he said, "on the improvement in your
manner and appearance. You are beginning well, Francis. Go on as you
have begun."

CHAPTER X.

MY first few days' experience in my new position satisfied me that
Doctor Dulcifer preserved himself from betrayal by a system of
surveillance worthy of the very worst days of the Holy Inquisition
itself.

No man of us ever knew that he was not being overlooked at home, or
followed when he went out, by another man. Peepholes were pierced in the
wall of each room, and we were never certain, while at work, whose eye
was observing, or whose ear was listening in secret. Though we al