fter a while the subject dropped.

Voltaire, however, was not in the room; and when, after having
breakfasted, I was wondering where he was, I felt the old terrible
sensation come over me. I tried to resist the influence that was drawing
me out of the room, but I could not. I put on my overcoat and hat, and,
drawn on by an unseen power, I went away towards the fir plantation in
which the summer-house was built.

As I knew I should, I found Voltaire there. He smiled on me and lifted
his hat politely. "I thought I would allow you to have a good breakfast
before summoning you," he said, "especially as this is the last
conversation we shall have for some time."

I thought I detected a look of triumph in his eyes, yet I was sure he
regarded me with intense hatred.

"Yes," I said, "I am come. What is your will now?"

"This. I find that Mr. Temple has told you about an interview which was
held in the library last night."

"Yes; it is true."

"Do you know of what you are in danger?"

"No--what?"

"Hanging."

"What for?"

"For murdering Kaffar."

"Did I kill him? I remember nothing. What was done was not because of
me, but because of the demon that caused me blindly to act."

"Names are cheap, my man, and I don't mind. Claptrap morality is
nothing to me. Yes, you killed Kaffar--killed him with that knife you
held in your hand. I meant that you should. Kaffar was getting
troublesome to me, and I wanted to get him out of the way. To use you as
I did was killing two birds with one stone. You know that Miss Forrest
has promised to marry me if Kaffar be not forthcoming by next Christmas
Eve. That, of course, can never be, so my beautiful bride is safe;" and
he looked at me with a savage leer.

"Have you brought me here to tell me that?"

"No; but to tell you a little good news. I have decided to hold you as
the slave to my will until the day Miss Gertrude Forrest becomes Mrs.
Herod Voltaire, and then to set you free. Meanwhile, I want to give you
a few instructions."

"What are they?"

"You are not to take one step in trying to prove that Kaffar is alive."

"Ah!" I cried; "you fear I might produce him. Then I have not killed
him, even through you. Thank God! thank God!"

"Stop your pious exclamations," he said. "No, you are wrong. You did
kill Kaffar, and he lies at the bottom of yonder ghostly pool; so that
is not the reason. Why I do not wish you to search for him is that
thereby you might find out things