"We must take him from this room before he recovers consciousness," I said to the old man, who was surprised and horror-stricken.
"But, sir, in the name of Heaven, what has happened?"
"Let us examine the bed, and I will tell you," I said. I held up the candle as I spoke. A glance at the posts was all-sufficient to show me how the deed had been done. The canopy above, on which the heavy mattress had been placed, was held in position by strong cords which ran through pulleys at the top of the posts. These were thick and heavy enough to withstand the strain. When the cords were released, the canopy, with its heavy weight, must quickly descend upon the unfortunate sleeper, who would be smothered beneath it in a few seconds. Who had planned and executed this murderous device?
There was not a soul to be seen.
"We will take Mr. Cressley into another room and then come back," I said to the housekeeper. "Is there one where we can place him?"
"Yes, sir," was the instant reply; "there's a room on the next floor which was got ready for you."
"Capital," I answered; "we will convey him there at once."
We did so, and after using some restoratives, he came to himself. When he saw me he gazed at me with an expression of horror on his face.
"Am I alive, or is it a dream?" he said.
"You are alive, but you have had a narrow escape of your life," I answered. I then told him how I had found him.