tside world. The single gas jet burning in a
fixture hanging from the ceiling was the only relief given to the eye
in the blank expanse of white wall that surrounded me; while as to
furniture, the room could boast of nothing more than an old-fashioned
black-walnut table and two chairs, the latter cushioned, but stiff in
the back and generally dilapidated in appearance. The only sign of
comfort about me was a tray that stood on the table, containing a
couple of bottles of wine and two glasses. The bottles were full and
the glasses clean, and to add to this appearance of hospitality a box
of cigars rested invitingly near, which I could not fail to perceive,
even at the first glance, were of the very best brand.

Astonished at these tokens of consideration for my welfare, and
confounded by the prospect which they offered of a lengthy stay in
this place, I gave another great shout; but to no better purpose than
before. Not a voice answered, and not a stir was heard in the house.
But there came from without the faint sound of suddenly moving wheels,
as if the carriage which I had left standing before the door had
slowly rolled away. If this were so, then was I indeed a prisoner,
while the moments so necessary to my plans, and perhaps to the
securing of my whole future happiness, were flying by like the wind.
As I realized this, and my own utter helplessness, I fell into one of
the chairs before me in a state of perfect despair. Not that any fears
for my life were disturbing me, though one in my situation might well
question if he would ever again breathe the open air from which he had
been so ingeniously lured. I did not in that first moment of utter
downheartedness so much as inquire the reason for the trick which had
been played upon me. No, my heart was full of Dora, and I was asking
myself if I were destined to lose her after all, and that through no
lack of effort on my part, but just because a party of thieves or
blackmailers had thought fit to play a game with my liberty.

It could not be; there must be some mistake about it; it was some
great joke, or I was the victim of a dream, or suffering from some
hideous nightmare. Why, only a half hour before I was in my own
office, among my own familiar belongings, and now--But, alas, it was
no delusion. Only four blank, whitewashed walls met my inquiring eyes,
and though I knocked and knocked again upon the two doors which
guarded me on either side, hollow echoes continued