Indeed, there was little, if any, room, for anything more; though a hole in the side next to the chimney showed plainly that some kind of a stove had been used during the winter.
A hand glass, a pair of scissors, shaving utensils, a basin of water, and two or three bottles lay promiscuously on the table, and scattered over the floor was a mass of white hair.
“Behold all that remains of your friend’s venerable whiskers,” said Nick, pointing to the telltale material at their feet.
“He came up here to renew his youth,” exclaimed Abbott.
“Yes, and was so sure of the security of this hiding place that he didn’t lose any time in destroying the proofs of his villainous plot. See! there are the bottles from Madame Reclaire’s laboratory, whose contents bleached his beard and hair. He even used the wash here right in the presence of the helpless man who was so terribly wronged.”
“This was his prison?”
“Evidently. Have you any idea how they got Templin here without arousing suspicion?”
Dr. Abbott remained in thought a few moments before he replied.
“During the first few months of their residence in the house,” he finally said, “there was a man of all work about the place who, from what you tell me, I believe was the fellow with the sandy beard and hair Madame Reclaire described as a partnership patron with Mackenzie. Maybe he had something to do with smuggling the old man in.”
“I have no doubt of it,” said Nick. “It was probably he who constructed this chamber while Elmwood slept; and helped Mackenzie, or Greene, to bring the victim from some other hiding place to this padded prison. I wish I knew where that sandy-bearded man is at this moment.”