Prevost provided himself with a lanthorn and led the way through the passage and down the steps leading to the cellars, muttering and scolding to himself, for he dared not make a complaint to which I might reply, until we reached the outer door. This he unlocked, and I discovered a long passage, evidently underground, for the air struck me as damp and chill as we traversed it, to the entrance of the principal vault, which he opened. "There! See for yourself if I have not told the truth. It is as empty as death!" and as he spake he held the lanthorn high. Bat this did not satisfy me. I was determined to take nothing for granted until I had personally proved the truth of his protestations. "Give me the light," I said, taking it from him as I entered. "Willingly." he replied; but I had not taken a dozen steps before I heard a clang, the quick turn of a key, and found I was a prisoner, trapped like a rat by the man I most hated and despised. At first I was inclined to laugh, for the turn was not without its cleverness, but the inclination was quickly stifled as I realized what such a situation might mean to one in my position. A foreign officer failing to be at his post when about to meet his own countrymen face to face, would be a default open to such construction as filled me with dismay--a construction which the wretch who had trapped me would use every means to convert into the blackest of certainties. When the first feeling of dismay had passed I made a careful examination of my prison, but the result brought no encouragement. The vault, which was an outer one, was only provided with two heavy doors, the one by which I had entered, and the other doubtless leading to another vault. There was not a sign of any window or opening, and the walls were covered with a white coating of fungus. In one corner was some useless household lumber, and against the wall stood a wooden coffer like those in well-to-do farmers' houses at home; save for these odds and ends, the place was indeed empty; in so far, at least, my gentleman had not lied. I placed my lanthorn on the floor, and seating myself on the chest, tried to form some plan of action. There was no use in attempting to attract attention by raising an outcry, for I was certainly underground, cut off by the long passage from the house. If I made a fire the smoke could not escape, and I should only gain suffocation for my pains. There was absolutely no escape that I could further by my unaided effort. Dreadful as this thought was, I was tortured by others infinitely worse; by phantasms that the future might well convert into horrid realities.