The Master of Silence | Page 6

Irving Bacheller
the building. The
wall suggests an asylum, a house of detention or some like place set
apart for the unfortunate members of society. In reality, however, it is
the residence of a mysterious recluse of the name of Lane, who shut
himself up there nearly eighteen years ago and has since been rarely
seen. It was built after his own plans, they say, when he came to
Ogdensburg with his wife, who died soon afterward. Nobody knows
whence he came or anything of his past history. He is apparently a total
stranger here below, holding no intercourse with the world beyond that
enclosure. His wife is said to have been a woman of great beauty, and
her death doubtless threw him into a morbid state of mind, from which
he has never rallied. Many years ago he is known to have bought a
full-grown African lion from a traveling menagerie, and, soon after, he
erected the wall, presumably out of regard for the public safety. Passers
along the street have caught an occasional glimpse of him through the
high gate, walking in the grounds surrounding his house, with the lion

at his heels apparently in complete subjection to its master. A dense
thicket runs along the wall on all sides within the enclosure, which,
according to local tradition, is alive with rattlesnakes, bred for some
strange purpose known only to himself--perhaps to make his isolation
more secure.
"He is supposed to have resigned the companionship of men for study
and scientific research. He has no children, and his only servant being a
deaf-mute, who is almost an idiot, there is little chance at present of
learning anything of his life. For more than two years nothing has been
seen of the mysterious master of the house. His disappearance would,
we think, be a legitimate subject of investigation by the authorities of
the town. May he not have been eaten by the lion, or killed by the
rattlesnakes? Who knows?"
My heart was beating fast and my hands shook as if stricken with palsy
before I had finished the paragraph. The strange old man who had come
to me in Liverpool that night was probably the mute servant to which
the article referred. In an hour I was on the way to Ogdensburg, quite
confident that the issue of my wanderings was at hand. I reached that
town next morning nearly two years, as I have said, after the beginning
of my journey to the New World. Not stopping to breakfast even, I
started out to find the house, which my busy imagination had already
pictured for itself. The first townsman I saw directed me to the place.
"Follow the turnpike," said he. "'Sa mild or more--straight ahead. You'll
know it when y' git there. 'S' queer place an' stan's off by itself."
The man was going my way, evidently to begin his day's work, for it
was then early in the morning, and I walked along with him.
"Folks say," he continued, "them grounds is full of hejious reptyles, an'
I've heerd fellers tell queer things they've seen when passin' there at
night--red lights a-flyin' about an' spooks at the winders. An' one night,
when Uncle Bill Jemson was comin' down the turnpike, they was a
storm come up, an' jest as he got opposite the big iron gate they was a
flash a lightnin'--an' Bill says he see the ole man, his long white hair
a-flyin' in th' wind, an' a lion standin' there in front a th' house. Th' flash

was out'n a minit, an' Bill whipped up his hosses an' sent em clear to
Mills' tavern on the dead run," said he, laughing as if it were a good
joke.
"They don't nobody like th' place ner th' man, though I don' know why,
fer no one's ever passed a word with him in these parts. There 'tis, over
yender with the pines around it an' th' high wall," said he, pointing with
his finger. But my eye had already discovered the low-built rambling
house on the high banks of the river, well in the distance, and had
recognized it at once.
Leaving my companion at the next turn in the road I walked hurriedly
on, and when I had reached the big iron gate I stopped and peered
through it. A gravel roadway, now overgrown with weeds, led from the
gate to the front of the house, which stood facing me. It was built
entirely of wood and consisted of four wings (at least there were no
others visible) evidently enclosing a quadrangular courtyard, the rear
wings being lower than those in front, and hidden by the latter from the
view of one standing at the gate as I was. It was only at a distance that
one
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