" 'Without another word, I gathered up my papers and started across the bridge. It swayed, but only slightly. There was not the slightest danger of an accident. And yet in my passage across that bridge I trembled violently. When finally I reached the strangely guarded door I had barely strength enough to knock upon the heavy timbers. There was no reply. Evidently they were absorbed in their experiment, I thought, and knocked again. Still no reply, though this time I seemed to hear a faint movement within. I tried to peer through the tiny window-panes in the door. They were somewhat above the level of my face and partly obscured by the iron bars. So I raised myself on tiptoe and, shading my eyes with my hands, looked in.
" 'For a moment I could see nothing. Then, as I became accustomed to the gloom, I made out a few objects near by,—a charcoal stove, a table holding a pair of scales, pincers, blowpipe, a graduating glass, and other apparatus with which I was unfamiliar. At the farther end of the table sat a motionless female figure, the head thrown back, one hand clutching a crumpled sheet of paper, while the other hung limply at her side. Directly opposite a man sat, also motionless, his bowed head resting on the edge of the table. As I looked, I fancied the hand holding the paper twitched slightly.
" 'I shifted my position. A faint light fell upon the face of the woman. It was that of Mrs. Westinghouse, but white and rigid, with sightless, staring eyes.
" ' "They are dead!" I cried, as I rushed back into the room of the dying man. Then, recollecting myself, I succeeded in repeating my words with fingers that trembled so that I could hardly give the signs.
" 'For a moment he seemed unmoved; then, with a ghastly smile, he signalled:—
" ' "This is your time to escape."
" ' "But you—"
" ' "Never mind me. All I care for is to keep my secret from them. Remember your vow—and now go—go—and God bless you."
" 'I grasped his hand, then rushed from the room. I snatched my hat and coat in the hall below, and ran out of the house and down the road, never stopping until I reached the station. There I took the next train and reached the city only half an hour ago.' "
Here Mr. Gilbert began to light a cigar, as though his story were finished.