The Master of Silence | Page 7

could see their roofs above the enclosure. There was but one line of
windows along the front, but there was an oriel just under the peak of
the main building, and I could see a skylight here and there upon the
roofs.
The blinds were closed and there was no sign of life about the
house--evidently planned with hospitable intentions, but now silent and
forbidding. I tried the gates. They were locked securely. A screen of
closely woven wire rose from the pavement half way up the iron work.
Evidently it would be impossible to reach the doors without scaling this
barrier, and I was not yet ready to try an expedient so desperate.
Returning to my hotel I wrote a letter to the master of the house, telling
him of my long-continued quest and of my hopes regarding our
possible kinship. Day after day I anxiously awaited his reply, until a
week had passed, but no word came from him. In passing the house at
different times, however, I observed some signs of life within it--a
blind open that had been closed the day before--a faint glimmer of light
on the trees in the rear of the grounds at night, which might have come

from the back windows. Even this slight encouragement was gratifying,
but as time passed without bringing any reply to my letter I began to
think that, after all, my hopes rested on very shadowy foundations. One
day I asked the local postmaster if a man of the name of Lane, who
lived near that city, ever sent for his mail.
"Never," said he. "The man is crazy, I guess, and it's wasting postage to
write him. He's a hermit, sir--a regular hermit, and is about the same as
dead, for nobody ever sees him. The tradesmen tell me that his old
servant comes out of an evening, once in a while, to buy provisions, but
he's deaf as a post and dumb as an oyster." The interview had at least
shown me the futility of trying to reach him by letter.
It was clear that only one course was open to me. I must brave the
unknown perils with which this strange man had encompassed the path
of the trespasser, and gain an entrance to the house. I sought the
seclusion of my room at once, and thought over the result of my
investigations. I had not written to my good friend in London since my
arrival in Ogdensburg, and I concluded not to do so until I could give
him definite information.
Late in the afternoon a slow, drizzling rain began to pour down, and
when night fell every luminary in the heavens was obscured by thick
clouds. It was a favorable time for carrying out my project, as the
darkness was intensified by a fog that had settled over the city. By the
light of my lamp I prepared for the undertaking, in such a state of
excitement that I was frequently startled by my own whispers, through
which I found myself now and then giving involuntary utterance to my
thoughts. Cutting up a pair of boots which I carried in my box, I wound
my legs in leather from my ankles up above my knees, carefully
drawing on a pair of thick, long stockings to hold it in place. This
precaution would give me a comfortable sense of security, even if there
were no snakes to fear. I felt sure that the lion, if he were still living,
would be kept in some place of confinement.
It was long past bedtime, and the lights were out in every shop and
dwelling, when I started on my daring mission. The little lamps that
glared through the fog at the street corners could scarcely be seen

twenty feet away. I was so preoccupied that I frequently lost my
direction in the mud and darkness. It seemed as if I had been traveling
for hours, when at last I felt the big wall, and saw its dim bulk rising
above me and stretching away into the night. Cautiouly I groped along
its base until my hands felt the iron bars of the gate. Then I stood for
some moments leaning against them, quite out of breath. They were
cold and wet, and chilled me to a shiver when I touched them. I peered
toward the house but could see nothing. I listened, but could hear
nothing except the beating of my own heart and the mournful sound of
the pines whose loftier branches were stirring in the still air. Grasping
the heavy bars I tried to climb the gate, but, as there were no
projections on which it was possible to get a foothold, I found this an
exhausting and difficult task. I climbed repeatedly several feet