III
Roberts began pacing very anxiously up and down the floor of the room. He did not continue that for very many minutes, however, before he stopped abruptly and again seated himself in the chair.
“There is something wrong here,” he muttered, “mighty wrong! But I don’t want them to know I have discovered it.”
He sat for several minutes with his head in his hands, gazing straight in front of him, his mind in a perfect tumult. He was absolutely without any possible idea as to what that state of affairs could mean or what object his mysterious host could possibly have in taking him prisoner.
“There is one comfort, however,” he muttered. “Heaven is to be thanked for that!”
He took the revolver from his pocket as he muttered the words; all of its chambers were loaded, and he put it back into his pocket with a slight chuckle of satisfaction.
“I guess they didn’t count on that. They have got me in here, but it’ll be another thing to get me out!”
There was but very little idea of sleep left in his mind. When at last he had decided that there was no solving the mystery with the few facts that he knew, he began stealthily moving about the room and examining everything in it.
Directly at the head of the bed he found a handsome portiere hanging, and as he reached behind this he discovered that there was another door to the apartment.
“Perhaps they haven’t locked that,” he thought. “I wonder where it leads to?”
He slipped in behind the curtain and proceeded to test that door also. He set about the matter with the utmost caution, for by this time he was firmly convinced that it was more than likely that someone was keeping watch outside of his room.
The prisoner had really very little idea of finding the door unlocked; he did not think it likely that his captors would have neglected that precaution, and he was thoroughly prepared to spend the rest of the night in his prison. Such being the case, his surprise and delight may be imagined when, upon turning the knob and pushing softly, he found the door giving way before him.
His heart was thumping with excitement as he made this discovery, and inch by inch he opened the barrier wider. He could see nothing, for the curtain back of him shut out the light from his own room and the next apartment appeared absolutely dark. However, when it was opened wide enough for him to slip in, Roberts stole cautiously forward, and was soon standing on the floor of the other room. All about him was absolutely dark and silent, but he groped around him for some distance before he finally concluded to go back and get a little light.
From a notebook in his pocket he tore several pages, which served him for a small taper; and by this he made the discovery with consternation that the apartment into which he had come was a tiny cell, not more than fifteen feet square. There was a square window, high up from the ground and heavily barred. By the faint light which he had Roberts saw that the walls of the place were all stone, and that the door through which he had come was composed of iron!
“Great heavens!” he gasped. “I am in a fearful trap, as sure as I’m alive!”
He gripped his revolver in his hand, turned, and once more crept back into his own room to wait. However, he found that everything there was as silent as before, and after some little meditation over the problem he removed several more pages from his notebook and set out for another exploration.
He had noticed on the other side of that tiny cell another door, exactly like the first. “I wonder where that leads?” he thought; and this time he twisted his tiny taper so as to make it last longer, and then again crept forward.
He darted across the stone floor and paused before the other iron door. There was a keyhole there through which he could see a light shining, but he could make out nothing by peering through. After pausing and listening for several seconds and hearing absolutely no sound of any kind, he determined upon a bold expedient.
“I am here,” he thought, “probably for good. I am likely to have a fight whenever I try to get out, so it might as well be now as any time, for it will be an advantage to take the other people unawares.”
And his mind once made up on that point Roberts softly turned the knob of the door. As he did so he pushed against it; but it did not yield.
There was another effect, however, one which caused him to give a start of alarm. The sound he had made had evidently been heard, for on the other side he heard a soft exclamation and then a footstep in the room.
“That settles it!” Roberts murmured. “They have heard me!”
He pushed at the door still harder and then gave a savage lunge; but the barrier remained firm, and he knew that it was locked.
At the same instant the sound of moving became much more distinct, and Roberts, without a second’s hesitation, turned and sprang back toward his own room. “It is better to be caught there than here,” he thought in a flash.
But before he had taken half a dozen steps he was stopped by a new and unexpected development. He heard a voice behind him, coming through the crack in the door he had been trying.
“Who’s there?” it cried. “Who’s there?”
And the words were in English!
The voice was a low whisper. In an instant it occurred to Roberts that this might be a friend, a prisoner like himself! He turned and crept back toward the door.
“Who are you?” he cried.
His heart was beating so wildly with the excitement that he could scarcely hear the reply of the other person, who still whispered in a very low tone.
“An American,” was the reply. “Are you?”
“Yes,” said Roberts, “I am.”
“And have they got you, too?” panted the other breathlessly.
“Yes,” answered Roberts, “they have got me. What in the world does it mean?”
“I don’t know,” said the other, “I haven’t an idea!”
“Do you mean that you are kept prisoner here without knowing why?”
“Yes, without the faintest idea; absolutely!” came the breathless whisper from the keyhole. “Don’t talk too loud, or they will hear you, and then heaven knows what fearful things may happen to you! How long have you been here?”
“I only came tonight,” Roberts whispered. “And you?”
As he heard the reply it was all he could do to keep his balance; he clutched at the rough stone wall to sustain himself. The man’s voice was reduced almost to a moan as he answered:
“I have been here twenty years!”