all the rest to you. Only don't make a scandal, I
pray, for my house has the name of being quiet."

"Yes," thought I, "too quiet!" and for an instant felt my spirits fail
me. But it was only for an instant. I had friends about me and a pistol
at half-cock in the pocket of my overcoat. Why should I fear any
surprise, prepared as I was for every emergency?

"I will show you up in a moment," said he; and left me to put up a heavy
board shutter over the window opening on the river. Was this a signal or
a precaution? I glanced towards my two friends playing cards, took
another note of their broad shoulders and brawny arms, and prepared to
follow my host, who now stood bowing at the other end of the room,
before a covered staircase which was manifestly the sole means of
reaching the floor above.

The staircase was quite a feature in the room. It ran from back to
front, and was boarded all the way up to the ceiling. On these boards
hung a few useless bits of chain, wire, and knotted ends of tarred
ropes, which swung to and fro as the sharp November blast struck the
building, giving out a weird and strangely muffled sound. Why did this
sound, so easily to be accounted for, ring in my ears like a note of
warning? I understand now, but I did not then, full of expectation as I
was for developments out of the ordinary.

Crossing the room, I entered upon the staircase, in the wake of my
companion. Though the two men at cards did not look up as I passed them,
I noticed that they were alert and ready for any signal I might choose
to give them. But I was not ready to give one yet. I must see danger
before I summoned help, and there was no token of danger yet.

When we were about half-way up the stairs the faint light which had
illuminated us from below suddenly vanished, and we found ourselves in
total darkness. The door at the foot had been closed by a careful hand,
and I felt, rather than heard, the stealthy pushing of a bolt across it.

My first impulse was to forsake my guide and rush back, but I subdued
the unworthy impulse and stood quite still, while my companion,
exclaiming, "Damn that fellow! What does he mean by shutting the door
before we're half-way up!" struck a match and lit a gas jet in the room
above, which poured a flood of light upon the staircase.

Drawing my hand from the pocket in which I had put my revolver, I
hastened after him into the small landing at the top of the stairs. An
open door was before me, in