Charlie smiled in inward mirth at what he called the “fossilized piece of antiquity.” “Touched in the forehead; crank,” was his mental comment. “I’d better put on the brakes, and not aggravate this lunatic. He’s probably some kind of a king, and might make it hot for me.” Aloud he said, “Pardon, Mr. King, but what has this to do with making me a prisoner? Why have I been brought here?”
“You will know soon enough,” replied Ai, as he clapped his hands. Abdallah moved to the side of the room, and instantly a marble block slid from its position, through which Ai and he departed, leaving the prisoners alone.
For a while the two men sat and looked at each other in helpless silence. Then Jim broke the silence with lamentations.
“Oh, Lord! Mr. Vance, there’s a hoodoo on this business, and I’m the hoodoo!”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed Vance. “Be a man, Jim, and help me find a way out of this infernal business.”
But Jim sat on the divan, lamenting and refusing to be comforted. Presently food was brought to them, and then after many and useless conjectures, they lay down and tried to sleep.
The night passed very comfortably on the whole, although the profound silence was suggestive of being buried alive. Another day and night passed without incident. Food was supplied them at regular intervals. Charlie’s thoughts were varied. He—fastidious and refined—who had known no hardship and no sorrow,—why had he left his country to wander among untutored savages? None were there to comfort him of all his friends. These walls would open but to admit the savage executioner. He ground his teeth. He thought of Cora Scott; doubtless she thought him dead. Dead! No; nor would he die. He’d find a way out of this or perish; he’d go home and marry Cora. Now this was a most surprising conclusion, for Charlie had been heard to say many times that “he’d be drawn and quartered before he’d tie up to a girl of the period,” which Cora undoubtedly was. As if aroused from a dream, he jumped up and going over to Jim, shook him. The Negro turned uneasily in his sleep and groaned. Again he shook him.
“Get up, Jim. Come, I’m going to try to get out of this.”
“I’m afraid, Mr. Vance; it’s no use.”
“Come on, Jim; be a man.”