"
But Miss Euphemia had not more than descended at half past seven
precisely (her usual hour) when Oliver came hastily into the room,
demanding a hammer and chisel, and with such evident dismay upon his
countenance that Miss Euphemia asked if anything was the matter.
"I do not know," said Oliver, searching the drawer for the desired
implements; "I called and knocked smartly at Captain Yorke's door to
ask him if he desired hot water, and to offer him a change of clean
linen (as we are much the same size and build); but although I made
sufficient noise to wake the hardest sleeper, no response did I receive.
Then I unbolted the door, intending to enter, but he has fastened it on
the inside, and"--
"He is ill," cried Miss Euphemia, in alarm. "I noted he looked pale last
night."
"Much more likely 'tis some device to alarm us," said Oliver, seizing
the chisel, and Miss Euphemia followed him as he went hurriedly up the
front staircase. At its top stood Huntington.
"Captain Yorke is a sound sleeper," he said, addressing Oliver. "I have
knocked at his door several times and get no response."
"My mind misgives me," said Oliver, fitting his chisel in the door and
striking vigorously with the hammer; "and yet I made sure there was no
chance for escape,--ha!" as the door swung open and discovered the
closed shutters and the last flickering gleams of the dying candle upon
the table.
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