“You know that too, do you? No; you need stand in no fear of bodily harm as long as you obey my commands. I have come to the conclusion that I can use you to as good purpose as Reginald can. No more words now. Put on that coat and come with me.”
Julian mechanically obeyed. His bodily powers were so nearly exhausted, and he was thrown into such a state of bewilderment and alarm by his new adventure, that he suddenly seemed to become insensible to every emotion. He could walk and talk, but he received no more impression from the objects around him than if he had been in a dream. He no longer shrunk away from the revolver which was kept pointed straight at his head, nor was he surprised when the emigrant raised the hangings at the foot of the bed and disclosed to view an opening in the wall—that solid stone wall which Julian had so carefully examined but a few minutes before. He clambered through without waiting for the order, and followed his captor along a narrow passage-way and down a flight of steps into a commodious underground apartment, which, judging by its general appearance, was used as a cellar and store-house. Here the emigrant spoke again, and the sound of his voice aroused Julian to a sense of his situation.
“Yes, yes,” said he, “I have changed my plans concerning you. Silas Roper is the man I want now, and in order to get hold of him I must hold fast to you. I have a comfortable little shooting-box up in the mountains, and there you can stay and enjoy—— Great heavens!”
The emigrant ceased speaking and started back as if he had been shot. Julian looked up into his face and saw that it was white with terror, and noticed, too, that he was trembling violently in every limb. His eyes were staring fixedly toward the farther end of the cellar, and following the direction of his gaze Julian discovered something that made his heart beat a little faster than usual.
It was not a frightful object his gaze rested upon—nothing but the figure of a feeble and decrepit old man, who was walking across the opposite end of the cellar. He moved along with tottering step and form half-bent, his thin silvery hair streaming down over his shoulders, and one withered hand grasping a staff upon which he leaned heavily. He seemed ignorant of the presence of the emigrant and his prisoner, and walked on without looking either to the right or left. Suddenly, however, he turned and approached the foot of the stairs. Julian could not see his eyes, which were fastened upon the ground, but he obtained a fair view of his face. He could discover nothing in it calculated to frighten any one, for its expression was mild and benevolent, but the emigrant seemed unable to endure the sight of it. He retreated as the old man advanced, growing more and more terrified every moment, and finally with a shriek of dismay dashed the lantern upon the floor, extinguishing the light and leaving the cellar shrouded in darkness. Julian turned and made a feeble attempt to ascend the stairs, but exhausted nature gave away at last. He felt himself falling—falling—and then all was blank to him.
CHAPTER XIX.
UNCLE REGINALD EXPLAINS.
WHEN Julian’s consciousness returned it was broad daylight. The instant his eyes were open the thrilling events of the night came back to him, and he started up in alarm, expecting to find himself still in the power of the dreaded emigrant. But, although he saw enough to astonish him beyond measure, there was nothing to terrify him. His persevering and relentless enemy was nowhere to be seen. He was snugly tucked up in bed in the same room to which he had been conducted by Reginald Mortimer, his clothes were lying in order on a chair close at hand, the curtains were thrown back, the windows and shutters all open, and heaven’s bright sunlight was streaming in. And what was very surprising, there was the door locked and bolted and secured by the chair, just as he had left it.