A Master of Mysteries | Page 8

mill-race. And
then there would have been another death, and all the old fuss over
again! Look here, sir, will you have the goodness to get out of the place?
I don't want you here any more."
"I intend to leave to-morrow morning," I answered in a pacifying voice,
"and I am really very much obliged to you for warning me about the
mill."
"You had best not go near it again," he said in a menacing voice, and
then he turned hastily away. I watched him as he climbed up a steep
bank and disappeared from view. He was going in the opposite
direction from the house. Seizing the opportunity of his absence, I once
more approached the mill. Was it possible that Wentworth had been
hurled into it? But had this been the case there would have been signs
and marks on the body. Having reached the wheel, I clambered boldly
down. It was now getting dusk, but I could see that a prolongation of
the axle entered the wall of the tower. The fittings were also in
wonderfully good order, and the bolt that held the great wheel only
required to be drawn out to set it in motion.
That evening during supper I thought very hard. I perceived that
Bindloss was angry, also that he was suspicious and alarmed. I saw
plainly that the only way to really discover what had been done to
Wentworth was to cause the old ruffian to try similar means to get rid

of me. This was a dangerous expedient, but I felt desperate, and my
curiosity as well as interest were keenly aroused. Having finished my
supper, I went into the passage preparatory to going into the kitchen. I
had on felt slippers, and my footfall made no noise. As I approached
the door I heard Bindloss saying to his wife,--
"He's been poking about the mill-wheel; I wish he would make himself
scarce."
"Oh, he can't find out anything," was the reply. "You keep quiet,
Bindloss; he'll be off in the morning."
"That's as maybe," was the answer, and then there came a harsh and
very disagreeable laugh. I waited for a moment, and then entered the
kitchen. Bindloss was alone now; he was bending over the fire,
smoking.
"I shall leave early in the morning," I said, "so please have my bill
ready for me." I then seated myself near him, drawing up my chair
close to the blaze. He looked as if he resented this, but said nothing.
"I am very curious about the deaths which occur in this house," I said,
after a pause. "How many did you say there were?"
"That is nothing to you," he answered. "We never wanted you here; you
can go when you please."
"I shall go to-morrow morning, but I wish to say something now."
"And what may that be?"
"I don't believe in that story about the place being haunted."
"Oh, you don't, don't you?" He dropped his pipe, and his glittering eyes
gazed at me with a mixture of anger and ill-concealed alarm.
"No," I paused, then I said slowly and emphatically, "I went back to the
mill even after your warning, and----"

"What?" he cried, starting to his feet.
"Nothing," I answered; "only I don't believe in the ghost."
His face turned not only white but livid. I left him without another
word. I saw that his suspicions had been much strengthened by my
words. This I intended. To induce the ruffian to do his worst was the
only way to wring his secret from him.
My hideous room looked exactly as it had done on the previous
evening. The grotesque pattern on the walls seemed to start out in bold
relief. Some of the ugly lines seemed at that moment, to my
imagination, almost to take human shape, to convert themselves into
ogre-like faces, and to grin at me. Was I too daring? Was it wrong of
me to risk my life in this manner? I was terribly tired, and, curious as it
may seem, my greatest fear at that crucial moment was the dread that I
might fall asleep. I had spent two nights with scarcely any repose, and
felt that at any moment, notwithstanding all my efforts, slumber might
visit me. In order to give Bindloss full opportunity for carrying out his
scheme, it was necessary for me to get into bed, and even to feign sleep.
In my present exhausted condition the pretence of slumber would easily
lapse into the reality. This risk, however, which really was a very grave
one, must be run. Without undressing I got into bed, pulling the
bed-clothes well over me. In my hand I held my revolver. I deliberately
put out the candles, and then lay motionless, waiting for