night. And there had been
something in the metallic clang of that closing door, something in the
sure and certain fashion in which it had closed into its frame,
something in the utter silence which had followed the sudden extinction
of the light, which made the captive feel that he might beat upon door
or wall as hard and as long as he pleased without attracting any
attention. This place into which he had come of his own free will was no
ordinary place--already he felt that he was in a trap out of which it
was not going to be easy to escape.

He stood for a moment, heart thumping and pulses throbbing, to listen
and to look. But he saw nothing--beyond the faint indication of the
waning moonlight outside the red-curtained, circular windows high above
him, and a fainter speck of glowing cinder, left behind in the recently
emptied furnace. He heard nothing, either, save a very faint crackling
of the expiring ashes in that furnace. Presently even that minute sound
died down, the one speck of light went out, and the silence and gloom
were intense.

Neale now knew that unless Joseph Chestermarke came back to his workshop
he was doomed to spend the night in it--and possibly part of the next
day. He felt sure that it was impossible to obtain release otherwise
than by Joseph's coming. He could do nothing--in all probability--to
release himself. No one in the town would have the remotest idea that he
was fastened up within those walls. The only man to whom such an idea
could come on hearing that he, Neale, was missing, was old Rob
Walford--and Walford, by that time, would be well on his way to
Wymington, thirty miles off, and as he was to be there all night, and
all next day, he would hear nothing until his return to Scarnham,
twenty-four hours hence. No!--he was caught. Joseph Chestermarke had had
no idea of catching him--but he had caught him all the same.

And now that he was safely caught, Neale began to wonder why he had
slipped into that place. He had an elementary idea, of course--he had
wanted to find out if anybody was concealed in that room which the
landlord had pointed out. Certainly he had felt no fear about meeting
Joseph Chestermarke. Yet--now that he was there--he did not know what he
should have done if Joseph had come in, as he expected he would, nor
what he should, or could do now that he was in complete possession. If
he had been able to face Joseph, he would have demanded information,
point-blank, about the