"None whatever, rascal," replied the unseen speaker. "I want you. I have more work for you to do."
"I won"t leave Mr. Thorneycroft," cried the dwarf resolutely. "I"ve promised to preserve him, and I"ll keep my word."
"Fool!" cried the other. "You must obey when I command."
And as the words were uttered, a hand was thrust down from above, which, grasping the dwarf by the nape of the neck, drew him upwards.
"Lay hold of me, Mr. Thorneycroft," screamed Old Parr. "I"m going up again--lay hold of me--pull me down."
Well-nigh stifled by the thickening and pungent vapour, the poor iron-merchant found compliance impossible. Before he could reach the dwarf, the little fellow was carried off. Left to himself, Mr.
Thorneycroft staggered along the pa.s.sage, expecting every moment to drop, until at length a current of fresh air blew in his face, and enabled him to breathe more freely. Somewhat revived, he went on, but with great deliberation, and it was well he did so, for he suddenly arrived at the brink of a pit about eight feet in depth, into which, if he had approached it incautiously, he must infallibly have stumbled, and in all probability have broken his neck. This pit evidently communicated with a lower range of chambers, as was shown by a brazen lamp burning under an archway. A ladder was planted at one side, and by this Mr.
Thorneycroft descended, but scarcely had he set foot on the ground, than he felt himself rudely grasped by a man who stepped from under the archway. The next moment, however, he was released, while the familiar voice of the Tinker exclaimed--
"Vy, bless my "art, if it ain"t Mister Thorneycroft."
"Yes, it"s me, certainly, Mr. Tinker," replied the iron-merchant. "Who"s that you"ve got with you?"
"Vy, who should it be but the Sandman," rejoined the other gruffly.
"Ve"ve set ourselves free at last, and have made some nice diskiveries into the bargin."
"Yes, ve"ve found it all out," added the Tinker.
"What have you discovered--what have you found out?" cried the iron-merchant breathlessly. "Have you found my daughter? Where is she?
Take me to her."
"Not so fast, old gent, not so fast," rejoined the Tinker. "Ve ain"t sure as "ow ve"ve found your darter, but ve"ve catched a peep of a nice young "ooman."
"Oh! it must be her--no doubt of it," cried the iron-merchant. "Where is she? Take me to her without a moment"s delay."
"But ve can"t get to her, I tell "ee," replied the Tinker. "Ve knows the place vere she"s a-shut up,--that"s all."
"Take me to it," cried Mr. Thorneycroft eagerly.
"Vell, if you must go, step this vay, then," rejoined the Tinker, proceeding towards the archway. "Halloa, Sandy, did you shut the door arter you?"
"Not I," replied the other; "open it."
"Easily said," rejoined the Tinker, "but not quevite so easily done. Vy, zounds, it"s shut of itself and bolted itself on t"other side!"
"Some one must have followed you," groaned Thorneycroft. "We"re watched on all sides."
"Ay, and from above, too," cried the Sandman. "Look up there!" he added, in accents of alarm.
"What"s the matter? What new danger is at hand?" inquired the iron-merchant.
"Look up, I say," cried the Sandman. "Don"t ye see, Tinker?"
"Ay, ay, I see," replied the other. "The roof"s a-comin" in upon us.
Let"s get out o" this as fast as ve can." And he kicked and pushed against the door, but all his efforts were unavailing to burst it open.
At the same time the Sandman rushed towards the ladder, but before he could mount it all egress by that means was cut off. An immense iron cover worked in a groove was pushed by some unseen machinery over the top of the pit, and enclosed them in it.
CHAPTER V
NEW PERPLEXITIES
For several hours deep sleep, occasioned by some potent medicaments, had bound up the senses of Auriol. On awaking, he found himself within a cell, the walls, the floor, and the ceiling of which were of solid stone masonry. In the midst of this chamber, and supporting the ponderous roof, stood a ma.s.sive granite pillar, the capital of which was grotesquely ornamented with death"s-heads and cross-bones, and against this pillar leaned Auriol, with his left arm chained by heavy links of iron to a ring in the adjoining wall. Beside him stood a pitcher of water, and near him lay an antique-looking book, bound in black vellum.
The dungeon in which he was confined was circular in form, with a coved roof, sustained by the pillar before mentioned, and was approached by a steep flight of steps rising from a doorway, placed some six feet below the level of the chamber, and surmounted by a pointed arch. A stream of light, descending from a narrow aperture in the roof, fell upon his wasted and haggard features. His dark-brown hair hung about his face in elf-locks, his beard was untrimmed, and a fixed and stony glare like that of insanity sat in his eye. He was seated on the ground--neither bench nor stool being allowed him--with his hand supporting his chin.
His gaze was fixed upon vacancy--if that can he called vacancy which to him was filled with vivid images. His garb was not that of modern times, but consisted of a doublet and hose of rich material, wrought in the fashion of Elizabeth"s days.
After remaining for some time in this musing att.i.tude, Auriol opened the old tome before him, and began to turn over its leaves. It was full of magical disquisitions and mysterious characters, and he found inscribed on one of its earlier pages a name which instantly riveted his attention. Having vainly sought some explanation of this name in the after contents of the book, he laid it aside, and became lost in meditation. His reverie ended, he heaved a deep sigh, and turned again to the open volume lying before him, and in doing so his eye rested for the first time on his habiliments. On beholding them he started, and held out his arm to examine his sleeve more narrowly. Satisfied that he was not deceived, he arose and examined himself from head to foot. He found himself, as has been stated, attired in the garb of a gentleman of Elizabeth"s time.
"What can this mean?" he cried. "Have I endured a long and troubled dream, during which I have fancied myself living through more than two centuries? O Heaven, that it may be so! Oh that the fearful crimes I suppose I have committed have only been enacted in a dream! Oh that my victims are imaginary! Oh that Ebba should only prove a lovely phantom of the night! And yet, I could almost wish the rest were real--so that she might exist. I cannot bear to think that she is nothing more than a vision. But it must be so--I have been dreaming--and what a dream it has been!--what strange glimpses it has afforded me into futurity! Methought I lived in the reigns of many sovereigns--beheld one of them carried to the block--saw revolutions convulse the kingdom--old dynasties shaken down, and new ones spring up. Fashions seem to me to have so changed, that I had clean forgotten the old ones; while my fellow-men scarcely appeared the same as heretofore. Can I be the same myself? Is this the dress I once wore? Let me seek for some proof."
And thrusting his hand into his doublet, he drew forth some tablets, and hastily examined them. They bore his name, and contained some writing, and he exclaimed aloud with joy, "This is proof enough--I have been dreaming all this while."
"The scheme works to a miracle," muttered a personage stationed at the foot of the steps springing from the doorway, and who, though concealed from view himself, was watching the prisoner with a malignant and exulting gaze.
"And yet, why am I here?" pursued Auriol, looking around. "Ah! I see how it is," he added, with a shudder; "I have been mad--perhaps am mad still. That will account for the strange delusion under which I have laboured."
"I will act upon that hint," muttered the listener.
"Of what use is memory," continued Auriol musingly, "if things that are not, seem as if they were? If joys and sorrows which we have never endured are stamped upon the brain--if visions of scenes, and faces and events which we have never witnessed, never known, haunt us, as if they had once been familiar? But I am mad--mad!"
The listener laughed to himself.
"How else, if I were not mad, could I have believed that I had swallowed the fabled elixir vitae? And yet, is it a fable? for I am puzzled still.
Methinks I am old--old--old--though I feel young, and look young. All this is madness. Yet how clear and distinct it seems! I can call to mind events in Charles the Second"s time. Ha!--who told me of Charles the Second? How know I there was such a king? The reigning sovereign should be James, and yet I fancy it is George the Fourth. Oh! I am mad--clean mad!"
There was another pause, during which the listener indulged in a suppressed fit of laughter.
"Would I could look forth from this dungeon," pursued Auriol, again breaking silence, "and satisfy myself of the truth or falsehood of my doubts by a view of the external world, for I am so perplexed in mind, that if I were not distracted already, they would be enough to drive me so. What dismal, terrible fancies have possessed me, and weigh upon me still--the compact with Rougemont--ha!"
"Now it comes," cried the listener.
"Oh, that I could shake off the conviction that this were not so--that my soul, though heavily laden, might still be saved! Oh, that I dared to hope this!"
"I must interrupt him if he pursues this strain," said the listener.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Rougemont"s device to perplex Auriol.]
"Whether my crimes are real or imaginary--whether I s.n.a.t.c.hed the cup of immortality from my grandsire"s dying lips--whether I signed a compact with the Fiend, and delivered him a victim on each tenth year--I cannot now know; but if it is so, I deeply, bitterly regret them, and would expiate my offences by a life of penance."
At this moment Rougemont, attired in a dress similar to that of the prisoner, marched up the steps, and cried, "What ho, Auriol!--Auriol Darcy!"