'I know where he is,' resumed the old man, with his finger on his long chin, and looking down upon the carpet. 'It would be very convenient if you would favour us with his address,' said Stanley, with a gracious sneer. 'I know what became of him,' continued the oracle. 'You are more in his confidence than we are,' said Lake. 'Don't be frightened--but he's alive; I think they'll make him mad. It is a frightful plight. Two angels buried him alive in Vallombrosa by night; I saw it, standing among the lotus and hemlock. A negro came to me, a black clergyman with white eyes, and remained beside me; and the angels imprisoned Mark; they put him on duty forty days and forty nights, with his ear to the river listening for voices; and when it was over we blessed them; and the clergyman walked with me a long while, to-and-fro, to-and-fro upon the earth, telling me the wonders of the abyss.' 'And is it from the abyss, Sir, he writes his letters?' enquired the Town Clerk, with a wink at Lake. 'Yes, yes, very diligent; it behoves him; and his hair is always standing straight on his head for fear. But he'll be sent up again, at last, a thousand, a hundred, ten and one, black marble steps, and then it will be the other one's turn. So it was prophesied by the black magician.' 'I thought, Sir, you mentioned just now he was a clergyman,' suggested Mr. Wealdon, who evidently enjoyed this wonderful yarn. 'Clergyman and magician both, and the chief of the lying prophets with thick lips. He'll come here some night and see you,' said Uncle Lorne, looking with a cadaverous apathy on Lake, who was gazing at him in return, with a sinister smile. 'Maybe it was a vision, Sir,' suggested the Town Clerk. 'Yes, Sir; a vision, maybe,' echoed the cavernous tones of the old man; 'but in the flesh or out of the flesh, I saw it.' 'You have had revelations, Sir, I've heard,' said Stanley's mocking voice. 'Many,' said the seer; 'but a prophet is never honoured. We live in solitude and privations--the world hates us--they stone us--they cut us asunder, even when we are dead. Feel me--I'm cold and white all over--I died too soon--I'd have had wings now only for that pistol. I'm as white as Gehazi, except on my head, when that blood comes.' Saying which, he rose abruptly, and with long jerking steps limped to the door, at which, I saw, in the shade, the face of a dark-featured man, looking gloomily in. When he reached the door Uncle Lorne suddenly stopped and faced us, with a countenance of wrath and fear, and threw up his arms in an attitude of denunciation, but said nothing. I thought for a moment the gigantic spectre was about to rush upon us in an access of frenzy; but whatever the impulse, it subsided--or was diverted by some new idea; his countenance changed, and he beckoned as if to some one in the corner of the room behind us, and smiled his dreadful smile, and so left the apartment.