"Ay, one of the heirs,—and he must be a man of sense, shrewdness and undoubted respectability. Now—do you hear me?—you, Herman Barnhurst, are one of the heirs of Anreke Jans Bogardus."
There was a pause of profound silence. You might have heard a pin drop, in the deep stillness of that vast edifice.
"I am one of the heirs of Anreke Jans," said Herman; "and what then?"
The voice of the unknown was deep, distinct and imperative:
"You will assist us in foiling these conspirators. You will assist us willingly, faithfully, and without reserve. This is the good counsel which I am deputed to give you."
"And if I decline?" said Herman, drawing a long breath.
"You will not decline when you remember the event of the night of the tenth of November, 1842."
Dermoyne felt the hand which he clasped tremble in his grasp.
"Ah!" and Herman drew another long breath.
"As the Third of the Three, I beg your opinion of my good counsel," said the unknown.