It was just possible that Helga had arranged these precautions in the critical need to conceal her presence in the house, and in that case, if I once gained admittance, I could easily explain my presence. But it seemed far more probable that a very ugly purpose lay under it all, and this I resolved to ascertain, even at the risk of finding myself face to face with one or two members of the brotherhood.
I slipped on my boots and coat, therefore, and following the man’s example, I got through the grating, and finding the inner door, gave the signal I had heard. It was an anxious moment as I huddled up against the door awaiting the result. It was a long wait, until I heard a stealthy movement; the door was opened slowly and cautiously, and a man, holding a light, looked out.
Not caring for any scrutiny of my face, I put my foot in the crack and my shoulder to the door, and shoved my way in.
“Why keep me waiting?” I asked in a whisper. “I am followed.”
“Who are you?” asked the voice.
“One who should be here,” I answered at random, as I closed the door and shot home the bolt. “Lead the way,” I said, in a tone of authority.
He was for thrusting the light in my face, but I brushed his hand away and growled out an oath.
“Who is here?” I asked then, under my breath.
He made no reply, and seemed quite undecided what to do; so I decided for him, and pushed him very unceremoniously before me into the darkness beyond.
He led me into an inner cellar, unlighted, save for the candle he carried. I followed, prepared for almost anything except that which I saw; and seeing it, I could scarce restrain from laughter, so complete was the relief from the tension of the previous few minutes.