"Is it possible you don't know?"
"'Pon my honour, it never occurred to me to inquire till this moment.
Where are you staying?"
"Number 171," he answered, still laughing.
"Number 171 where--why don't you speak plainly, and not keep a fellow
waiting when he wants to get to his hotel to keep an appointment?"
"What! another engagement!--with the lady whose photograph you were
passing to the fellows at the Junior Garrick last night, eh? I heard
about it, old fellow," he exclaimed, evidently thinking he had a fine
chance to chaff me. Seeing my frown at the reference, he continued:
"Seriously, it is curious you did not know of my whereabouts. My room
is 171 at the Charing Cross Hotel, and yours is 172--now do you see why
I laughed?"
"Your room next to mine!" I said in concern, the thought that perhaps
he might have overheard my interview with Frank that morning suddenly
occurring to me.
"Well, there's nothing to be alarmed at, is there? I've not escaped
from quarantine. By the way, I took an opportunity of calling upon you
this morning, and as you did not notice my timid rap--you know I always
give a timid rap, for you've often laughed at it--I peeped in. You
were, however, so deeply ingrossed in conversation with your friend
Nugent that I did not think fit to disturb you, and came away. He's an
old friend of yours, isn't he?" he asked, carelessly.
When Demetrius told me this my heart stood still; yet what was there to
fear? I could have as well trusted him as Frank. Yet somehow the idea
of Demetrius knowing about this was intensely disagreeable, especially
after his ironical reference to the photograph, which had been uttered
in a rather threatening tone.
Hastily muttering something about being sorry he had not come in as Bob
was very good company, I looked at my watch and bade him an abrupt
adieu. He seemed inclined to walk back with me, but seeing his
intention I called a cab and bade the driver hurry to the hotel.
There is an indistinct recollection in my mind of having eaten a hasty
dinner, but whether I really did so that eventful evening or not is a
matter of speculation. At all events, I wrapped up warmly, for it was a
wet night and the prospect was anything but inviting.
Determining to have a sharp walk in order to set my blood in
circulation, I had started out, when it occurred to me that, having a
good round sum in notes in my pocket, it would be policy to leave them
behind. Hurrying back I did this, and turned out sundry valuables from
my pocket-book. Then the seal, on its blood-stained and crumpled paper,
became apparent in the depths of the wallet and the question arose,
should I leave that also?
Since the night when it was given me by the trembling hands of the man
whose room I was now about to invade, it had rested securely there, for
I had been afraid to let it out of my possession on any account. It
would perhaps be best to leave it at the hotel, under lock and key, so I
put it in a little cash-box in my portmanteau. But the next moment a
superstitious dread seized me, and I replaced it again in the
pocket-book, and then once more started on my adventurous errand.
Before long I reached the spot. It was a rather tall house, uninhabited
apparently, for its lower windows were covered with hoarding, and
generally the structure bore a grim, uninviting appearance. On the
first occasion, when the poor fellow had dragged me there in a kind of
mad frenzy, I had not taken particular notice of the manner in which we
effected our entrance, but, as there was no one about, I made a careful
scrutiny of a side-door.
As I gave it a violent push the noise resounded through the empty place
with such a hollow clamour that a chill fell upon my heart, and, save
for the intense curiosity which possessed me, I should have come away,
leaving the place unexplored.
But this was rendered impossible, for, although the moment had been
carefully chosen when there was not a person in sight, my indecision,
lasting for several minutes, brought other consequences in its train.
The corner where the door was located was a dark one, it was true, yet,
as the measured tread of a constable fell upon my strained ears, I saw
immediate action was imperative. The prospect of a bull's-eye lantern
being suddenly flashed upon one was not at all encouraging, and was not
to be faced.
Another and stronger jerk at the door proved that it was fastened, or
that something so obstructed its opening that more force, and therefore
more noise, was needed. This would not do; therefore, summoning up some
of my old courage and resolution which had unaccountably deserted me of
late, I speedily clambered in by a small window, through the broken
upper panes of which it was easy to put one's hand to turn the catch.
Having done this, and replaced, as well as possible in the
circumstances, the piece of hoarding, I allowed the constable to pass on
before moving further. My heart beat high for a moment as the glare
from his lantern flashed through the chinks and lighted, like the
gleaming of a fire, the miserable and musty-smelling apartment; but he
passed on unheedingly, unsuspicious of the stealthy intruder near him.
When he had gone, all was dark. Never will the memory of that miserable
_contretemps_ be surpassed by a more disheartening experience. It
required several minutes' careful search to find the stairs, and my
hands encountered all sorts of horrible recesses, as, painfully and
slowly, I felt my way about.
The only occasion like it was when, in that dreary Russian dungeon, my
hands had discovered the fatal seal. My thoughts instantly reverted to
that night, then many months ago, and it felt to my excited and
over-wrought nerves, that every crack my fingers found were portions of
the occult inscription.
As I at last ascended the stairs my memory endeavoured to recall the
position of the room in which I had left the body. It was certainly at
the top of the house, for our ascent, in his weak state, had occupied
some time.
Arrived at the top landing I struck a match, for it was evident that it
would not be observed at such a height. To my surprise there were only
two rooms, both entirely empty, one so small that it certainly could not
have been the one in which that eventful night had been spent. The
other was also small, and had not the shape that I remembered.
Obviously there was some mistake in my calculations, and dropping the
burnt match upon the carpetless boards, I resumed my search, this time
in a downward direction.
And now an event happened which added increased risk to the adventure,
and which, even after the lapse of many months since its occurrence, I
cannot think of without a thrill of excitement.
In treading upon the match my face in some way became reversed, so that
my next steps, carefully guided as I was by the wall, were in the wrong
direction. The first indication I had of this was a collision, with
some force, with the balustrades of the stairs. These appeared to be
very old and rickety, for as my heavy frame dealt them a blow they shook
and rattled ominously.
To seize them convulsively was the work of an instant; but, quick as
thought, I had drawn back and thrown myself on my side.
After swaying for a second, the heavy railing plunged forward and fell
with a sound almost like thunder down the whole height of the building,
bumping from stage to stage in the most hideous manner.