Here, in this foul prison, amid all these gruesome surroundings, I had
made a strange discovery!
I had deciphered an exact reproduction of the curious seal found upon
the body of the woman who had been so mysteriously murdered on that
eventful night in Bedford Place--the fatal emblem over which the police
of Europe and America had been so puzzled.
The disclosure brought vividly to my mind recollections of the murder
which, by rare chance, I detected, and I asked myself whether Fate had
decreed that a sketch of the seal should be graven upon the wall of my
dungeon.
I am neither a visionary, nor am I superstitious, yet it is probable
that my gloomy thoughts, combined with my solitary imprisonment, the
lack of exercise, and the horrors of my cell, had produced a slight
attack of fever; for while I was musing it seemed as if the mystic
symbols assumed divers grotesque shapes, the outlines of which glowed
like fire, and that by my side were hideous grinning demons, who assumed
a threatening attitude towards me.
My breathing became difficult, my head swam, and I sank backward upon
the stone seat.
I may have been insensible, or perhaps only sleeping soundly, when there
came a jingling of keys, and a harsh grating of bolts. This aroused me.
"Get up," commanded the jailer; "follow me."
I rose, my hands trembling and my teeth chattering so that I could
hardly re-arrange my clothes.
What fresh torture was in store for me? I dreaded to think.
At the first step I attempted to take I staggered and almost fell, but
recovering myself, followed the turnkey.
After examining my fetters to make certain of their security, he led me
through a long dark passage, up a flight of steps, down another, and
through some intricate places, little more than tunnels. Unlocking a
door, he bade me enter.
I did so, and found myself in a square cell, damp, and pitch dark, like
my own. We had been joined by another jailer in our walk through the
corridor, and both men entered with me.
As the lantern-light fell upon the straw I saw the cell was occupied; a
man was lying there, fully dressed, and apparently asleep.
"Prisoner," said the jailer, "take the clothes from off that man, dress
yourself in them, and afterwards put your own on him."
"But he will wake," I said.
"Do as I bid," growled the man; "and look sharp; or it will be the worse
for you."
For a moment I did not move. I felt dazed.
"Now; do you hear?" cried he angrily, shaking me roughly by the arm.
I stooped over the prostrate man in order to unbutton the collar of his
coarse coat, but in doing so my hand touched his chin. I withdrew it as
if I had been stung, for it sent a thrill of horror through me. It was
cold as ice.