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Page 37
This coffin-cell of the Templars had been suffered to remain in the
demolition of the general edifice, to make way for the erection of the
new, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. It was enlarged somewhat, and
altered, and additionally ventilated, to adapt it for a place of
concealment in times of civil dissension.
With this history ringing in his solitary brain, it may readily be
conceived what Israel's feelings must have been. Here, in this very
darkness, centuries ago, hearts, human as his, had mildewed in despair;
limbs, robust as his own, had stiffened in immovable torpor.
At length, after what seemed all the prophetic days and years of Daniel,
morning broke. The benevolent light entered the cell, soothing his
frenzy, as if it had been some smiling human face--nay, the Squire
himself, come at last to redeem him from thrall. Soon his dumb ravings
entirely left him, and gradually, with a sane, calm mind, he revolved
all the circumstances of his condition.
He could not be mistaken; something fatal must have befallen his friend.
Israel remembered the Squire's hinting that in case of the discovery of
his clandestine proceedings it would fare extremely hard with him,
Israel was forced to conclude that this same unhappy discovery had been
made; that owing to some untoward misadventure his good friend had been
carried off a State-prisoner to London; that prior to his going the
Squire had not apprised any member of his household that he was about to
leave behind him a prisoner in the wall; this seemed evident from the
circumstance that, thus far, no soul had visited that prisoner. It could
not be otherwise. Doubtless the Squire, having no opportunity to
converse in private with his relatives or friends at the moment of his
sudden arrest, had been forced to keep his secret, for the present, for
fear of involving Israel in still worse calamities. But would he leave
him to perish piecemeal in the wall? All surmise was baffled in the
unconjecturable possibilities of the case. But some sort of action must
speedily be determined upon. Israel would not additionally endanger the
Squire, but he could not in such uncertainty consent to perish where he
was. He resolved at all hazards to escape, by stealth and noiselessly,
if possible; by violence and outcry, if indispensable.
Gliding out of the cell, he descended the stone stairs, and stood before
the interior of the jamb. He felt an immovable iron knob, but no more.
He groped about gently for some bolt or spring. When before he had
passed through the passage with his guide, he had omitted to notice by
what precise mechanism the jamb was to be opened from within, or
whether, indeed, it could at all be opened except from without.
He was about giving up the search in despair, after sweeping with his
two hands every spot of the wall-surface around him, when chancing to
turn his whole body a little to one side, he heard a creak, and saw a
thin lance of light. His foot had unconsciously pressed some spring laid
in the floor. The jamb was ajar. Pushing it open, he stood at liberty,
in the Squire's closet.
CHAPTER XIII.
HIS ESCAPE FROM THE HOUSE, WITH VARIOUS ADVENTURES FOLLOWING.
He started at the funereal aspect of the room, into which, since he last
stood there, undertakers seemed to have stolen. The curtains of the
window were festooned with long weepers of crape. The four corners of
the red cloth on the round table were knotted with crape.
Knowing nothing of these mournful customs of the country, nevertheless,
Israel's instinct whispered him that Squire Woodcock lived no more on
this earth. At once the whole three days' mystery was made clear. But
what was now to be done? His friend must have died very suddenly; most
probably struck down in a fit, from which he never more rose. With him
had perished all knowledge of the fact that a stranger was immured in
the mansion. If discovered then, prowling here in the inmost privacies
of a gentleman's abode, what would befall the wanderer, already not
unsuspected in the neighborhood of some underhand guilt as a fugitive?
If he adhered to the strict truth, what could he offer in his own
defence without convicting himself of acts which, by English tribunals,
would be accounted flagitious crimes? Unless, indeed, by involving the
memory of the deceased Squire Woodcock in his own self acknowledged
proceedings, so ungenerous a charge should result in an abhorrent
refusal to credit his extraordinary tale, whether as referring to
himself or another, and so throw him open to still more grievous
suspicions?
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