“I cannot tell you why, until you unscrew that machine. Quick! it is of the deepest, the most vital importance to yourselves.”
The extreme earnestness of my voice and manner induced the men to comply almost, I might say, in spite of themselves.
“Now, lad, what is it? Mind, your turn is coming; so don’t trifle with us.”
“Trifle with you!” I said, in a voice so deep, and slow, and solemn,—with a look so preternaturally awful,—that the four men were visibly impressed.
“Listen! I have a secret to tell you,—a secret that intimately concerns yourselves. It is a fearful one. You would give all you possess—your wealth, your very lives—rather than not know it. I can tell it to you; but not now. All the tortures of the Inquisition could not drag it out of me. Nay, you need not smile. If you did torture me before I told you this secret, that would have the effect of rendering my information useless to you. Nothing could then save you. I must be left alone with my friend for an hour. Go! You may leave us chained; you may lock and bar your door; you may watch and guard the house; but go, leave us. Much—too much—valuable time has been already lost. Come back in one hour,” (here I pulled out my watch),—“in one hour and three minutes and five seconds, exactly; not sooner. Go! quick! as you value your lives, your families, your property. And hark, in your ear,” (here I glared at them like a maniac, and sank my voice to a deep hoarse whisper), “as you value the very existence of your slaves, go, leave us instantly, and return at the hour named!”
The men were evidently overawed by the vehemence of my manner and the mysterious nature of my remarks. Without uttering a word they withdrew, and locked the door behind them. Happily they left the torches.
As soon as they were gone I threw my arms round my comrade’s neck, and, resting my head on his shoulder, bemoaned our sad lot.
“Dear, dear Jack, have they hurt you?”
“Oh! nothing to speak of. But I say, Bob, my boy, what on earth can this monstrous secret be? It must be something very tremendous?”
“My poor Jack,” said I, regardless of his question, “your thumbs are bruised and bleeding. Oh that I should have lived to bring you to this!”