The Old Stone House and Other StoriesGreen, Anna Katharine
General
The Old Stone House and Other Stories
Green, Anna Katharine
Detective and mystery stories, American
Astonished at these tokens of consideration for my welfare, and
confounded by the prospect which they offered of a lengthy stay in
this place, I gave another great shout; but to no better purpose than
before. Not a voice answered, and not a stir was heard in the house.
But there came from without the faint sound of suddenly moving wheels,
as if the carriage which I had left standing before the door had
slowly rolled away. If this were so, then was I indeed a prisoner,
while the moments so necessary to my plans, and perhaps to the
securing of my whole future happiness, were flying by like the wind.
As I realized this, and my own utter helplessness, I fell into one of
the chairs before me in a state of perfect despair. Not that any fears
for my life were disturbing me, though one in my situation might well
question if he would ever again breathe the open air from which he had
been so ingeniously lured. I did not in that first moment of utter
downheartedness so much as inquire the reason for the trick which had
been played upon me. No, my heart was full of Dora, and I was asking
myself if I were destined to lose her after all, and that through no
lack of effort on my part, but just because a party of thieves or
blackmailers had thought fit to play a game with my liberty.
It could not be; there must be some mistake about it; it was some
great joke, or I was the victim of a dream, or suffering from some
hideous nightmare. Why, only a half hour before I was in my own
office, among my own familiar belongings, and now--But, alas, it was
no delusion. Only four blank, whitewashed walls met my inquiring eyes,
and though I knocked and knocked again upon the two doors which
guarded me on either side, hollow echoes continued to be the only
answer I received.
Had the carriage then taken away the two persons I had seen in this
house, and was I indeed alone in its great emptiness? The thought made
me desperate, but notwithstanding this I was resolved to continue my
efforts, for I might be mistaken; there might yet be some being left
who would yield to my entreaties if they were backed by something
substantial.
Taking out my watch, I laid it on the table; it was just a quarter to
eight. Then I emptied my trousers pockets of whatever money they held,
and when all was heaped up before me, I could count but twelve
dollars, which, together with my studs and a seal ring which I wore,
seemed a paltry pittance with which to barter for the liberty of which
I had been robbed. But it was all I had with me, and I was willing to
part with it at once if only some one would unlock the door and let me
go. But how to make known my wishes even if there was any one to
listen to them? I had already called in vain, and there was no
bell--yes, there was; why had I not seen it before? There was a bell
and I sprang to ring it. But just as my hand fell on the cord, I heard
a gentle voice behind my back saying in good English, but with a
strong foreign accent:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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