It was past midnight before a movement was made for bed, and when Ah
Ben brought a lighted candle, inquiring if everything in the
bedchamber had been satisfactory, Paul was about to reply in the
affirmative, when he suddenly remembered the staircase in the closet.
"I was about to forget," he said, "but would you mind explaining the
object of a very peculiar staircase I discovered in the closet of my
room?"
"This house is old," Ah Ben replied simply. "It was built when the
State was a colony and full of Indians. The stairway communicating
with the lower floor was doubtless intended as a means of escape. I
had not thought of this annoying you, but can readily see how it
might. You shall be removed to another room at once."
"Removed?" exclaimed Paul. "My dear sir, I had no intention of
making such a suggestion. The most I thought of asking for was a bolt
for the door, or scuttle; but since your explanation I do not wish
either."
They bade each other good night, and Paul undertook to find his room
alone, declining Ah Ben's offer to accompany him. But the house was
full of strange passages and unexpected stairways, making the task
more difficult than he had expected. After wandering about he found
himself stopped by a dead wall, at least so it had looked, but
suddenly directly before him stood Ah Ben.
"I thought you might need my assistance," he said quietly; and then
without appearing to notice Henley's astonishment, led the way to his
room.
When Paul found himself alone, he became conscious of a growing
curiosity concerning the stairs in the closet. He opened the door and
looked in, and then quietly lifted the scuttle by the ring. He peered
down into the darkness, but, as the stairs were winding, could
discern nothing for more than a half dozen steps below. He listened,
but the house was perfectly quiet, Ah Ben's retreating footsteps
having died upon the air. Somehow he half doubted the story which the
old man had told him about the original intention of the stairway as
a means of escape. It seemed improbable, and dated back to such a
remote period that he could not help feeling distrustful. Candle in
hand, he commenced to descend, looking carefully where he placed his
feet. As everywhere else, the woodwork was worm-eaten, and the
timbers set up a dismal creaking under the weight of his body, but he
had undertaken to investigate the meaning of this architectural
eccentricity, and would not now turn back. On he crept, noiselessly
as possible, adown the twisting stairs, carefully looking ahead for
pitfalls and unsuspected developments. Once he paused, thinking he
heard the distant tread of a foot, but the sound died away, and he
resumed his course. Some of the steps were so broken and rotten that
extreme caution was necessary to avoid falling. At last he reached
the ground, and found himself at the bottom of a square well, around
the four walls of which the stairs had been built. He was facing a
massive door, which occupied one of the sides of the well. Paul tried
the lock, but it was so old and rust-eaten that it refused to move.
There was no other outlet, and the place was narrow and damp. He
looked wistfully at the solitary door, feeling a vague suspicion that
it barred the entrance to a mystery, and resolved to return at some
future time, when not so harassed with sleepiness and the fatigues of
travel, and make another effort to open it. Paul looked above, and as
he did so a gust of air swept down the narrow opening and blew out
his light; at the same instant he heard the fall of the scuttle and
realized that he was shut in.