It was a small square room, and I shall not soon forget with what a
foreboding shudder I observed that its four blank walls were literally
unbroken by a single window, for this told me that I was in no
communication with the street, and that it would be impossible for me
to summon help from the outside 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 to be the only
answer I received.
Had the carriage then taken away the two persons I had seen in this
house, and was I indeed alone in its great emptiness? The thought made
me desperate, but notwithstanding this I was resolved to continue my
efforts, for I might be mistaken; there might yet be some being left
who would yield to my entreaties if they were backed by something
substantial.
Taking out my watch, I laid it on the table; it was just a quarter to
eight. Then I emptied my trousers pockets of whatever money they held,
and when all was heaped up before me, I could count but twelve
dollars, which, together with my studs and a seal ring which I wore,
seemed a paltry pittance with which to barter for the liberty of which
I had been robbed. But it was all I had with me, and I was willing to
part with it at once if only some one would unlock the door and let me
go. But how to make known my wishes even if there was any one to
listen to them? I had already called in vain, and there was no
bell--yes, there was; why had I not seen it before? There was a bell
and I sprang to ring it. But just as my hand fell on the cord, I heard
a gentle voice behind my back saying in good English, but with a
strong foreign accent:
"Put up your money, Mr. Atwater; we do not want your money, only your
society. Allow me to beg you to replace both watch and money."
Wheeling about in my double surprise at the presence of this intruder
and his unexpected acquaintance with my name, I encountered the
smiling glance of a middle-aged man of genteel appearance and
courteous manners. He was bowing almost to the ground, and was, as I
instantly detected, of German birth and education, a gentleman, and
not the blackleg I had every reason to expect to see.
"You have made a slight mistake," he was saying; "it is your society,
only your society, that we want."
Astonished at his appearance, and exceedingly irritated by his words,
I stepped back as he offered me my watch, and bluntly cried:
"If it is my society only that you want, you have certainly taken very
strange means to procure it. A thief could have set no neater trap,
and if it is money you want, state your sum and let me go, for my time
is valuable and my society likely to be unpleasant."
He gave a shrug with his shoulders that in no wise interfered with his
set smile.
"You choose to be facetious," he observed. "I have already remarked
that we have no use for your money. Will you sit down? Here is some
excellent wine, and if this brand of cigars does not suit you, I will
send for another."
"Send for the devil!" I cried, greatly exasperated. "What do you mean
by keeping me in this place against my will? Open that door and let me
out, or--"
I was ready to spring and he saw it. Smiling more atrociously than
ever, he slipped behind the table, and before I could reach him, had
quietly drawn a pistol, which he cocked before my eyes.
"You are excited," he remarked, with a suavity that nearly drove me
mad. "Now excitement is no aid to good company, and I am determined
that none but good company shall be in this room to-night. So if you
will be kind enough to calm yourself, Mr. Atwater, you and I may yet
enjoy ourselves, but if not--" the action he made was significant, and
I felt the cold sweat break out on my forehead through all the heat of
my indignation.
But I did not mean to show him that he had intimidated me.
"Excuse me," said I, "and put down your pistol. Though you are making
me lose irredeemable time, I will try and control myself enough to
give you an opportunity for explaining yourself. Why have you
entrapped me into this place?"
"I have already told you," said he, gently laying the pistol before
him, but within easy reach of his hand.
"But that is preposterous," I began, fast losing my self-control
again. "You do not know me, and if you did--"
"Pardon me, you see I know your name."
Yes, that was true, and the fact set me thinking. How did he know my
name? I did not know him, nor did I know this house, or any reason for
which I could have been beguiled into it. Was I the victim of a
conspiracy, or was the man mad? Looking at him very earnestly, I
declared:
"My name is Atwater, and so far you are right, but in learning that
much about me you must also have learned that I am neither rich nor
influential, nor of any special value to a blackmailer. Why choose me
out then for--your society? Why not choose some one who can--talk?"
"I find your conversation very interesting."
Baffled, exasperated almost beyond the power to restrain myself, I
shook my fist in his face, notwithstanding I saw his hand fly to his
pistol.
"Let me go!" I shrieked. "Let me go out of this place. I have
business, I tell you, important business which means everything to me,
and which, if I do not attend to it to-night, will be lost to me for
ever. Let me go, and I will so far reward you that I will speak to no
one of what has taken place here to-night, but go my ways, forgetful
of you, forgetful of this house, forgetful of all connected with it."
"You are very good," was his quiet reply, "but this wine has to be
drunk." And he calmly poured out a glass, while I drew back in
despair. "You do not drink wine?" he queried, holding up the glass he
had filled between himself and the light. "It is a pity, for it is of
most rare vintage. But perhaps you smoke?"
Sick and disgusted, I found a chair, and sat down in it. If the man
were crazy, there was certainly method in his madness. Besides, he
had not a crazy eye; there was calm calculation in it and not a little
good-nature. Did he simply want to detain me, and if so, did he have a
motive it would pay me to fathom before I exerted myself further to
insure my release? Answering the wave he made me with his hand by
reaching out for the bottle and filling myself a glass, I forced
myself to speak more affably as I remarked:
"If the wine must be drunk, we had better be about it, as you cannot
mean to detain me more than an hour, whatever reason you may have for
wishing my society."
He looked at me inquiringly before answering, then tossing off his
glass, he remarked:
"I am sorry, but in an hour a man can scarcely make the acquaintance
of another man's exterior."
"Then you mean--"
"To know you thoroughly, if you will be so good; I may never have the
opportunity again."
He must be mad; nothing else but mania could account for such words
and such actions; and yet, if mad, why was he allowed to enter my
presence? The man who brought me here, the woman who received me at
the door, had not been mad.
"And I must stay here--" I began.
"Till I am quite satisfied. I am afraid that will take till morning."
I gave a cry of despair, and then in my utter desperation spoke up to
him as I would to a man of feeling:
"You don't know what you are doing; you don't know what I shall suffer
by any such cruel detention. This night is not like other nights to
me. This is a special night in my life, and I need it, I need it, I
tell you, to spend as I will. The woman I love"--it seemed horrible to
speak of her in this place, but I was wild at my helplessness, and
madly hoped I might awake some answering chord in a breast which could
not be void of all feeling or he would not have that benevolent look
in his eye--"the woman I love," I repeated, "sails for Europe
to-morrow. We have quarrelled, but she still cares for me, and if I
can sail on the same steamer, we will yet make up and be happy."
"At what time does this steamer start?"
"At nine in the morning."
"Well, you shall leave this house at eight. If you go directly to the
steamer you will be in time."
"But--but," I panted, "I have made no arrangements. I shall have to go
to my lodgings, write letters, get money. I ought to be there at this
moment. Have you no mercy on a man who never did you wrong, and only
asks to quit you and forget the precious hour you have made him lose?"
"I am sorry," he said, "it is certainly quite unfortunate, but the
door will not be opened before eight. There is really no one in the
house to unlock it."
"And do you mean to say," I cried aghast, "that you could not open
that door if you would, that you are locked in here as well as I, and
that I must remain here till morning, no matter how I feel or you
feel?"
"Will you not take a cigar?" he asked.
Then I began to see how useless it was to struggle, and visions of
Dora leaning on the steamer rail with that serpent whispering soft
entreaties in her ear came rushing before me, till I could have wept
in my jealous chagrin.
"It is cruel, base, devilish," I began. "If you had the excuse of
wanting money, and took this method of wringing my all from me, I
could have patience, but to entrap and keep me here for nothing, when
my whole future happiness is trembling in the balance, is the work of
a fiend and--" I made a sudden pause, for a strange idea had struck
me.