and a blue mountain in the distance. Around the entire scene, in a
semicircle, was the word "Illusion," singularly wrought into the
shafts of light, and undecipherable without the closest scrutiny. The
figure of an old man in the foreground was contemplating the scene.
It was a crude piece of work, but impressive. There was a large
mahogany cabinet, mounted with brass; but its double doors were
locked and its drawers immovable. Beside the bed was a worm-eaten
door, and in idle curiosity Paul tried the handle. It opened easily,
revealing a spacious closet, with hooks and shelves. Throwing the
small satchel he had brought up with him upon the floor within, it
struck something, but the closet was too dark for him to see what;
so, taking the candle, he made an examination. In the farthest corner
was a hand-rail, guarding a closed scuttle, in which was inserted a
heavy iron ring. Henley took hold of the ring, and with some effort
succeeded in opening the scuttle. Looking down, he found to his
surprise that it communicated with a rough stairway leading below. He
peered into the darkness, but could discern nothing save the steps,
which seemed to go all the way to the cellar, and were just wide
enough to admit of a human body. He then removed his belongings back
into the room, shut down the scuttle, and closed the door. As there
was no fastening, he wedged a chair between the knob and the floor,
in such a manner that it could not be opened from within. He then
threw himself upon the bed, wondering what would be the outcome of
his unlawful enterprise, and while inhaling the tonic air of hill and
forest, half wished he were well away from this uncanny house and its
eccentric inmates. And yet, despite the mystery which enshrouded it,
there was a charm, a fascination, he could not deny. It was the
dream-like unreality of his surroundings--unreal, because different
from all that he had ever known. Should he suddenly find himself a
dozen miles removed, he felt certain that he would straightway