"Let me try," and, without farther parley, I sat down to my self-appointed, loathed, and detested task, first quietly dismissing Dinah to the next room, where Ernie was eating his supper, and I knew would soon be wanting to be put to bed. We changed places for a time, and it was not long before Mrs. Clayton pronounced the pain in her eyes "almost gone." The experiment was a desperate one, and I bore to it all the powers of my organization—mental and physical—and had the satisfaction in less than an hour to see her sleeping profoundly. She had been failing fast under her painful vigils, and I knew that a few hours of refreshing sleep would be worth to her more than all the drugs in the Pharmacopoeia. Now came the test which was to make this slumber worth nothing or every thing to me. If she could be awakened from it without my coincidence, it would prove, perhaps, only a snare to my feet, but if her waking depended on my will, then might I indeed hope to baffle my Dragon, and, as far as she was concerned, make sure of my escape. I willed then earnestly that she should sleep until twelve o'clock; and at ten, when Dinah became impatient to retire, I gave her permission, in order to gain egress to try and arouse Mrs. Clayton.
In consequence of this immurement of our servant, I had remained supperless—beyond the crusts of bread left by Ernie and some cold tea in Mrs. Clayton's teapot, of which I partook with an appetite born of exhaustion. Those who have undertaken this "laying on of hands," for the purpose of soothing pain, will comprehend what the succeeding sensation of nerveless prostration is—those only—and give me their sympathy.
From her errand to arouse our sleeper in quest of the key, of course Dinah returned disconsolate. Greatly to my satisfaction, she stated that it was "out ob de question to try to git her eyes open. Why honey," she pursued, "ef I didn't know what a steady-goin' Christian creetur she was, I mout suppose she had bin 'bibin' of whisky or peach-brandy—dat's de sleepiest stuff goin', chile; but I does believe she has the fallin' fits, caze, even wen I pulled open one corner of her eyes, dey was rolled clean back in her head. Mebbe she's dyin', chile, an' ef she is—but no!" she muttered, "dat ole creetur down-stairs nebber leaves dem back-doors open one minute, you had better believe, even ef he happens to turn his back a spell, an' it would be no use tryin' to git out ob de 'stablishment dat way, but I knows whar she keeps her key, an' I kin go to bed myself if you say so, an' you kin lock de do' inside, an' lay de key back undernefe her pillow: you see dar's a bolt outside, too, honey, an' I means to draw dat after me, as ole Caleb always does ob nights wen he goes to bed."
Chuckling low at the manifest disappointment in my face, she disappeared, to return almost instantly.
"I thought she must be possumin'," she said, "but I know she is as fas' asleep now as de bar' in de hollow ob a tree in cole wedder, for she made no 'sistance like wen I grabbed de key from undernefe her head, an' here it is, chile, an' ef you wants to try your 'speriment you kin, but I spec you'd better wait a spell," and she looked cunningly at me; "dere's traps everywhar in dese woods!"
It occurred to me as well that Mrs. Clayton might be feigning slumber, having penetrated my design of lulling and soothing her fitful spirit to rest; and feeling, as I did, an utter want of confidence in Sabra, not only as free agent but as watched attendant, I determined as far as in me lay to disarm suspicion by duplicity. So I lifted up my voice in testimony of deceit, and declared my weariness of bondage to be such that I had determined to embrace Mr. Bainrothe's conditions, and that in a few days I should be free again without assistance.
"So take the key, Dinah," I said, after observing it closely, and perceiving that it was several sizes larger than that I had made, as clumsy as that was, and, therefore, could be of no use to me. "Let yourself out, and bolt the door behind you, and Mrs. Clayton shall see that I will take no mean advantage of her slumbers."
This arrangement having been carried with speedy effect, I returned to my own chamber after a close scrutiny of Mrs. Clayton's condition, and employed myself at once in running my penknife around the door concealed by my bed-head, and thus loosening the paper, pasted on cotton cloth, that covered it, from that of the wall, with which it was connected so intimately as to make the whole surface within the chamber seem to form one partition.
Long before this I had cut that which surrounded the lock, so that it lay like a flap, over it, fastened down lightly, however, with gum-arabic (part of Ernie's draught for a catarrh), so as to baffle slight inspection. My heart beat wildly as, after having effected this preliminary step, I cautiously unlocked the door, which, for aught I knew, might be, like that of Mrs. Clayton's closet, bolted without, so as to frustrate all my efforts. It opened outwardly, and could have been readily so secured.
In the great providence of God, it was not bolted. I sank on my knees, weak and prayerful, I remember, as the door swung slightly back, revealing the platform beyond, and the short stair that led from it up to the second story. The hinges creaked a little, and these I hastened to oil; then closing and relocking the door softly, I crept (without pushing my bedstead back again the few inches I had wheeled it forward) to look once more upon the sleeping face of Mrs. Clayton.