University of Virginia Library

5. CHAPTER FIFTH.
THE GIRL AND THE PREACHER.

Along the entry, and up the stairs, passed
Brother Caleb, light in hand, followed by
Charles Lester.

“Remember your promise,” said Charles,
“Produce the girl, or I will hold you answerable.”

And as they stood at the door of the small
chamber, in which, as you doubtless remember,
stands the desk, Brother Caleb turned his
face over his shoulder, and replied:

“I only cultivated the acquaintance of this
Preacher in order to throw a gloss of sanctity
over my life,” he said with a laugh, in which
there was also a tremor: “But we will find
him and the girl in the Painted Room. Come
on.”

The Painted Room was the apartment beyond
the curtain.

“Find them, and we will talk about the
Preacher afterward,” replied Charles, as they
entered the small chamber.

It was empty. The lid of the desk was
still raised, and the closet door yet open. Brother
Caleb uttered an oath as he beheld the
desk by the light of his candle.

“Do not delay,” whispered Charles; “move
on, Captain Bradburne.”

Brother Caleb led the way into the passage
which, lighted by a single window and adorned

by a statue, connected the wing of the mansion
with the main edifice. At the extremity
of this passage appeared the curtain which covered
the entrance to the Painted Chamber.

“Move on,” whispered Charles, “no time
is to be lost.”

In a moment they stood before the curtain;
Charles listened with his ears and soul. All
was still.

“Go on,” he said fiercely: “I will not lose
sight of you, until you bring me into the
presence of the girl and the Preacher.”

And, obedient as a school-boy at the command
of his master, Brother Caleb parted the
curtain and led the way into the Painted
Chamber. There was a scowl upon his face,
which he endeavored to cloak with a smile, as
he held the candle above his head.

“The Chamber is empty,” said Charles, in
a tone of inexpressible despair. “They are
gone. Whither? Answer me, Captain; you
must know. How many rooms, with pictures
such as these on the walls, have you in this
pious haunt?”

“There are four rooms on the third floor—
two on the second, beside this; and then there
is the garret,” answered Brother Caleb, casting
his eyes to the floor. His face was very submissive,
and yet there was a curl about his lip,
very much like a sneer.

“Lead me through every room, and without
a moment's delay,” exclaimed Charles: “And
mark you, at the slightest sign of treachery, I
will take care of myself and of you, without
a word.”

He drew a pistol from the breast of his coat.

Brother Caleb calmly arranged a button on
his white vest. “Pshaw, Lester, there is no
need of any thing like this, I am your friend.
Why do I care for the Preacher? Only because
there's such a vein of wickedness about
him when he's half drunk. Come, Lester, I
will aid you in every way in my power.”

Brother Caleb smiled again and reached
forth his hand, but Charles did not seem to
remark the action. Certainly he did not take
the proffered hand. He placed his own hand
in the pocket of his overcoat, and did not for
an instant, release his grasp of the pistol.

“Go on, Captain, I'll follow.”

They retraced their steps, and returned to
the main building. Caleb leading and Charles
following — of course — they traversed all the
chambers on the second floor. Then ascended
to the third floor. The light which Caleb
held disclosed a range of apartments, furnished
with every thing that wealth could buy, or a
taste for luxury in its gaudiest extreme desire.
We will not stain our page with a full description
of all the secrets of that voluptuous haunt.
Room after room was traversed. High ceilings,
painted walls, beds of down, floors covered
with `Wilton' carpet, flashed in the light at
every turn.

“You seem to live in fine style,” remarked
Charles, as they entered the last room on the
third floor. “It must take a vast deal of
money — eh!”

“When one is rich and a bachelor, one
does not care for money,” was the answer of
Brother Caleb. “Now, Lester, you must be
satisfied. We have searched the whole house
— every part, save the garret and the cellar.
The Preacher has left the house, and taken
the girl with him. Have I not complied with
request of yours? Can I do more?

Charles did not reply until after a long pause.
Glancing around the chamber, furnished like
all the others, in a style of extreme splendor,
modified by taste, he discovered a small door,
half hidden by a curtain which drooped from
the ceiling. This door, unlike the one which
communicated with the entry, was low and
narrow, looking like an entrance to a closet.

“Where does that door lead?” said Charles,
closely surveying Caleb's visage as he awaited
his reply.

“To a closet sunken in the walls,” said
Caleb quickly. “The old gentleman who
owned this house a few months back, used that
closet as the depository of his title deeds. He
was a great man for real estate. Come — are
you satisfied? Let us go below — my guests
will become uneasy at my absence —”

He moved toward the door of the chamber,
but Charles gently laid a hand upon his arm:

“Not so fast,” he whispered. “Caleb, I do
not doubt your word, but I should like to examine
the contents of that closet. This way
if you please —”

Brother Caleb's face was contracted with an
expression of doubt and hesitation. He seemed
to be very much engaged in brushing away an
imaginary speck from the surface of his spot

less vest. As he held the candle above his
head, the light fell strong upon his forehead,
revealing its marked outline, and giving a sinister
glare to his protruding eyeballs.

“There is nothing there,” he said — “At
least nothing worthy of your attention. Come,
Lester; return with me to my guests. They
will begin to wonder and make remarks
about my long continued absence. We have
been engaged in this search for at least a half
an hour —”

“A half an hour, or a half a century, I care
not,” answered Lester fiercely, and a scowl
darkened over his face: “Give me the light.
I will learn the contents of that closet before I
quit this room.”

Caleb with an air of deep mortification
yielded the candlestick, and followed Charles
toward the narrow door.

“The key,” cried Lester, as he parted the
curtains aside, and examined the surface of the
door with a hurried glance. It consisted of a
single panel, and was painted in imitation of
the rich paper which covered the walls of the
chamber.

“There is no key. Press your thumb
against the panel, in the right corner, near the
top” — as Brother Caleb whispered these
words, he stood behind Lester, who of course
did not remark the expression of Brother Caleb's
countenance.

“We will examine your closet,” said
Charles, smiling, as he obeyed the directions
of Goodleigh: “Very likely we may discover
something worthy of notice behind this mysterious
panel.”

The door yielded, and receded from its
frame. Charles eagerly crossed the threshold,
light in hand, anxious to explore the closet.
The light for a moment streamed over Brother
Caleb's face, through the narrow door, as he
stood near the threshold, and then all was dark
as midnight. The door had closed as suddenly
and as soundlessly as it had yielded to
the hand of Charles.

Brother Caleb was alone in the darkness of
the chamber.