The town-bells struck the hours; how far apart were the strokes! They
tolled rather than pealed, as if for an execution, and the lamps of some
passing carriages made a journey as of torches upon the ceiling.
After nine o'clock there was a heavy tread upon the stairs. It kept him
company, and he was glad of its coming; but it drew so close, at length,
that he stood upright, with the cold sweat upon his forehead.
The steps halted at his threshold; the door swung open; a corporal and a
soldier stood without, and the former saluted formally:
"Monsieur the stranger, will remain in his chamber under guard. I grieve
to say that he is an object of grave suspicion. _Au revoir!_"
The corporal retired without waiting for a reply; the soldier entered,
and, leaning his musket against the wall, drew a chair before the door
and sat down. The firelight fell upon his face after a moment, and
revealed to Mr. Plade his old associate, Pisgah!
The former uttered a cry of hope and surprise; the soldier waved him
back with a menace.
"I know you," he said; "but I am here upon duty; besides, I have no
friendship with a murderer."
"We are both victims of a mistake! This accusation is not true. Will you
take my hand?"
"I am forbidden to speak upon guard," answered Pisgah, sullenly.
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