On the second floor he opened a door,—"In there, sir," and crossing the threshold, Gaspar Manuel found himself in the presence of Ezekiel Bogart.
It was a square apartment, lined with shelves from the ceiling to the floor, and illumined by a lamp, which hanging from the ceiling, shed but a faint and mysterious light through the place. In the center was a large square table, whose green baize surface was half concealed by folded packages, opened letters, and huge volumes, bound in dingy buff. Without windows, and warmed by heated air, this room was completely fire-proof—for the contents of those shelves were too precious to be exposed to the slightest chance of destruction.
In an arm-chair, covered with red morocco, and placed directly beneath the light, sat Ezekiel Bogart; a man whom we may as well examine attentively, for we shall not soon see his like again. His form bent in the shoulders, yet displaying marks of muscular power, was clad in a loose wrapper of dark cloth, with wide sleeves, lined with red. A dark skull-cap covered the crown of his head; and a huge green shade, evidently worn to protect his eyes from the light, completely concealed his eyes and nose, and threw its shadow over his mouth and chin. A white cravat, wound about his throat in voluminous folds, half concealed his chin; and his right hand—sinewy, yet colorless as the hand of a corpse—which was relieved by the crimson lining of the large sleeve—was laid upon an open letter.
Gaspar Manuel seated himself in a chair opposite this singular figure, and observed him attentively without uttering a word. And Ezekiel Bogart, whose eyes were protected by the huge green shade, seemed for a moment to study with some earnestness, the pallid face of Gaspar Manuel.
"My name is Ezekiel Bogart," he spoke in a voice so low as to be scarcely audible,—"and I am the General Agent of Martin Fulmer."
He paused as if awaiting a reply from Gaspar Manuel, but Gaspar Manuel did not utter a word.
"You come highly recommended by Mr. John Grubb, who is Mr. Fulmer's agent on the Pacific coast," continued Ezekiel. "He especially commends you to my kindness and attention, in the letter which I hold in my hand. He desires me to procure you an early interview with my principal, Dr. Martin Fulmer. He also states that you have important information in your possession, in regard to certain lands in the vicinity of the Jesuit Mission of San Luis, near the Pacific coast,—lands purchased some years ago, from the Mexican government, by Dr. Martin Fulmer. Now, in the absence of the Doctor, I will be most happy to converse with you on the subject"—
"And I will be happy to converse on the subject," exclaimed Gaspar, in his low voice and with a slight but significant smile, "but first I must see Dr. Martin Fulmer."
Ezekiel gave a slight start—
"But you may not be able to see Dr. Martin Fulmer for some days," he said. "His movements are uncertain; it is at times very difficult to procure an interview with him."