He started as I mentioned his name, but still he kept up the part which I believed he was trying to play.
"Come, power of darkness, and seize him," he cried, like one invoking some distant being; "tear his soul from his body, and drag it into eternal gloom!" Then turning to me, he said in a hoarse whisper, "Listen I do you not hear them coming? Fly ere it be too late."
"Let your powers of darkness come, Elijah," I said quietly, "but I tell you this: before they come there are certain things you will have to tell me."
"What things?" he snarled. "Tell me who you are? Tell me what you want?"
"All in good time," I said confidently, for by this time I began to enjoy the situation rather than to fear it; "but before I tell you aught let me go to your workshop, Master Elijah—the chamber where you keep your grinning skulls and your witch potions. For I have a great desire to enter that chamber. Ay, you must have rare doings there! Last night you received pretty women, and to-night you receive not women, but a man with a sword and pistols in his belt. Ay, and the pistols are loaded, Master Elijah, and I am a fair marksman."
"Very well," he said after a moment's thought. "On your own head be the curse of your acts. But wait here for one moment. I will e'en go and prepare the room for your coming."
"Nay, nay, we will go together," I replied. "I love your company so much that I cannot bear the thought of your departure."
As quietly as one could think, he had blown out the light, and I heard him rush away into the darkness. Had I hesitated a moment I should have lost him, but a ray of moonlight having penetrated the place, I was able to follow his movements. I caught him by the arm and held him fast.
"Unhand me, or you shall die!" he cried.
I held him at arm's length and, although he was an old man, I shook him, not so much as to hurt him, but enough to make him feel that he was not in the hands of a maid of eighteen.