Adventure stories; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction
At the foot of the stairs, never forgetting his limp, he traversed
several passages in which at long intervals only had a light been left
burning, and at length he came to a massive oak door. Opening this, he
found himself at the top of a flight of straight stone steps, running
down into the blackness of the great subterranean chamber, which had
been used as a crypt in the old monastic days. The shutting of the door
cut off the last ray of light, and there being no rails to the steps he
struck a wax match in order to make the descent in safety. But the
feeble flame had hardly flickered out when it was rendered useless by a
dazzling beam of white effulgence that suddenly sprang into being and
shone upon him from below.
"Hang it all, I didn’t allow for this!" he thought uneasily. "They have
brought one of those wretched portable electric lamps, and I doubt if
the disguise will stand. However, here goes."
Nerving himself for the ordeal, he went slowly down the steps, and so
limped across the stone floor towards a spot in the very center of the
crypt where five figures were grouped under the groined roof. He had
only time to observe that one figure—that of an old man with snow-white
beard and puffed, purple cheeks—stood slightly in advance of the rest,
when on his near approach an order was given in a queer, parrot-like
squeak to switch out the lamp. The crypt was windowless, but it was
conceivable that a light in the interior might be seen from outside
under the door leading into the gardens. Hence, doubtless, the
precaution.
"You have made all preparations above, Duke?" was queried in the same
piping voice.
"The bonds are in my own safe, and I obtained the key of the Senator’s
despatch-box by a trick—picked his pocket, in fact—after dinner,"
Forsyth replied, in a perfect imitation of Beaumanoir’s tone. He was
beginning to feel more confident in being able to sustain his part; he
would not, he thought, have lived to reach this parley if his disguise
had been penetrated.
"Then," the unseen spokesman proceeded, "all you have to do is to take
this bundle of papers and place them in the box, extracting the
originals, and returning here at once with them. It will then give me
pleasure to absolve you from further service."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account