Kenilworth - Page 395/408

Varney, meanwhile, had lurked behind on the stairs; but hearing the door

barred, he now came up on tiptoe, and Foster, winking to him, pointed

with self-complacence to a piece of concealed machinery in the wall,

which, playing with much ease and little noise, dropped a part of the

wooden gallery, after the manner of a drawbridge, so as to cut off

all communication between the door of the bedroom, which he usually

inhabited, and the landing-place of the high, winding stair which

ascended to it. The rope by which this machinery was wrought was

generally carried within the bedchamber, it being Foster's object to

provide against invasion from without; but now that it was intended

to secure the prisoner within, the cord had been brought over to

the landing-place, and was there made fast, when Foster with much

complacency had dropped the unsuspected trap-door.

Varney looked with great attention at the machinery, and peeped more

than once down the abyss which was opened by the fall of the trap-door.

It was dark as pitch, and seemed profoundly deep, going, as Foster

informed his confederate in a whisper, nigh to the lowest vault of the

Castle. Varney cast once more a fixed and long look down into this

sable gulf, and then followed Foster to the part of the manor-house most

usually inhabited.

When they arrived in the parlour which we have mentioned, Varney

requested Foster to get them supper, and some of the choicest wine. "I

will seek Alasco," he added; "we have work for him to do, and we must

put him in good heart."

Foster groaned at this intimation, but made no remonstrance. The old

woman assured Varney that Alasco had scarce eaten or drunken since her

master's departure, living perpetually shut up in the laboratory, and

talking as if the world's continuance depended on what he was doing

there.

"I will teach him that the world hath other claims on him," said Varney,

seizing a light, and going in quest of the alchemist. He returned, after

a considerable absence, very pale, but yet with his habitual sneer on

his cheek and nostril. "Our friend," he said, "has exhaled."

"How!--what mean you?" said Foster--"run away--fled with my forty

pounds, that should have been multiplied a thousand-fold? I will have

Hue and Cry!"

"I will tell thee a surer way," said Varney.

"How!--which way?" exclaimed Foster; "I will have back my forty

pounds--I deemed them as surely a thousand times multiplied--I will have

back my in-put, at the least."