Something underneath it strikes the eye of the seeming idiot. He bends closer, and then drags the carpet quite away, seizes the candle, and springs the trap which he has just discovered. Holding the candle above the opening, he looks down, and then, with a low chuckle, spreads the carpet smoothly over it, rises to his feet, and listens.
He hears footsteps crossing the rickety floor above. Van Vernet, having failed to find what he sought for aloft, is about to descend.
Stepping quickly to Alan’s side, Silly Charlie whispers:
“Fortune favors us. We have got Vernet trapped.”
“Vernet!” Alan Warburton starts and the perspiration comes out on his forehead.
Is this man who is his captor, Van Vernet? Heavens! what a complication, what a misfortune! And this other,—this wisest of all idiots, who calls him by name; who knows the reason for his presence, then, perhaps, knows Leslie herself; who, without any motive apparent, is acting so strange a part, who is he?
Mentally thanking the inspiration which led him to retain his incognito while negotiating with Van Vernet, Alan’s eyes still follow the movements of Silly Charlie.
As he gazes, Vernet enters the room, a look of disappointment and disgust upon his face.
“Charlie, you were scared at the rats,” he says; “there’s nothing else there.”
The trap is directly between him and the prisoner, and as he walks toward it, Silly Charlie fairly laughs with delight.