I then recollected it would perhaps be safest to write immediately to Grosvenor-Street, to prevent surprise as well as to guard against accidents, and I asked if he could furnish me with a sheet of paper and pen and ink. He answered he feared not, but called a boy, and said to him—'Did not I see you with some writing paper the other day?' The boy answered yes; and he bade him go and fetch it, and bring me the pen and ink.
He then left me, and the boy presently returned, with a sheet of paper, an old ink-bottle, and a very indifferent pen. The boy looked at me earnestly, and then examined the pen, saying it was a very bad one, but he would fetch me a better.
The man who was just gone had told me that nobody could be spared, to go as far as I required, in less than an hour at the soonest; I therefore have time to write at length.
I think there can be little doubt but that my Louisa is long before this in Grosvenor-Street. I would not wish Sir Arthur to be informed too suddenly, I will therefore direct to her at a venture; but for fear of accidents will add to the direction—'If Miss Clifton be not there, to be opened and read by Mrs. Clarke.'—In the present alarmed state of the family this will ensure its being opened, even if both my good friends should be absent.
Good heaven! What does this mean?—I have just risen to see if the little boy were within call, and find the door is locked upon me!
I have been listening!—I hear stern and loud voices!—I fear I have been very inconsiderate!—I know not what to think!
Where am I?—Oh, Louisa, I am seized with terror! Looking into the table-drawer at which I am sitting, in search of wafers, I have found my own letter; opened, dirtied, and worn! Alas! You know of no such letter!—Again I am addressing myself to the winds!—The very fatal letter in which I mentioned the eight thousand pounds!—Where am I, where am I?—In what is all this to end?
All is lost!—Flight is hopeless!—The very man who headed the ruffians that seized me has just walked into the room, placed himself with his back against the door, surveyed me, satisfied himself who it was, then warily left me, locked the door, and called a man to guard it!—Oh my incautious folly!
I am in the dwelling of demons!—I never heard such horrible oaths!—Surely there is some peculiar mischief working!—The noise increases, with unheard-of blasphemy!
Merciful Heaven! I hear the voice of Frank!—What is doing?—Must I remain here?—Oh misery!——What cries!