CHAPTER X.
THE PRISONER AND HIS CAPTORS.
Leonard Lester had no means of knowing when morning arrived, save by consulting his watch. The light of day could not penetrate into that dismal place. The hours of six, seven, and eight o’clock came, and a lantern that Snags had left shed its feeble rays with dim steadiness. Leonard grew weary and impatient, but still his opportunityfor meditation was uninterrupted. He chafed under his confinement, and was oppressed by the utter silence and loneliness that reigned. But he had only to wait.
He knew that Colonel Conrad had been murdered; he was conscious that the circumstances were likely to involve Carlos in some way; but of the exact form or extent of the danger that threatened his cousin, he was ignorant. He longed to be free, so as to offer him aid.
Could he have seen and foreseen all that was taking and was destined to take place, he would have blessed the stars that made him a prisoner.
About the middle of the forenoon he heard a noise at the door. It was soon opened, and a frowzy-looking man entered. He was short, thickset, with uncombed hair and beard, and blear eyes. His face was infinitely more ferocious and devilish in its expression than that of Snags. He was dressed in common, rough garments, and was armed with a pistol and a knife. The door was closed after him, and, advancing, he scrutinized the prisoner.
“Captain Jeremiah Roake, at your service,” he finally said. “Your name?”
“Leonard Lester,” replied the prisoner.
“Correct. Now we know each other. My stay must be short, for I come simply to ask you a question. What is it about this infernal piece of paper that Snags has been blowing about?”
“I don’t know,” said Leonard. “What are you talking about?”