“Then began the extraordinary part of the outrage,” said Clayton, with an expressive shrug of his shoulders. “The bandage was removed from my eyes. I found myself in quite a large room, the four walls of which were entirely hung with thick black cloth. Not a window or door, not a picture, not so much as a square inch of the wall paper, were visible.”
“By Jove, that was strange, indeed,” Chick remarked.
“Even the chandelier, pendant from a perfectly plain, plastered ceiling, also was covered with the same somber cloth. It was like opening one’s eyes in a chamber of horrors, or one draped in deepest mourning.”
Nick Carter smiled.
“The design of your abductors is obvious, Clayton,” said he.
“Do you think so?”
“I certainly do,” Nick nodded. “All that was done to prevent your seeing anything by which you subsequently could positively identify the room.”
“Well, well, that may be true, Nick, though I then was so affected by the mystery that that explanation did not occur to me,” said Clayton. “Nor, in fact, have I since thought of it.”
“What else did the room contain?” Nick inquired.
“Only two common wooden chairs and a narrow bed, the linen and blankets of which were perfectly plain.”