CHAPTER II.
Evening was drawing on, sending a soft twilight into the room, whenColeman's dinner was brought in by a shy and silent old colored woman.He had not ordered the meal, nor had he felt the need of it. Doubtlessthe stimulus afforded by the unusual character of his surroundings heldhis sense of hunger in abeyance.
The old woman retired as soon as she had arranged the repast on a roundmahogany table. Coleman found the oysters, the wine, the broiled fish,the French bread, and the black coffee excellent to such a degree thathe ate almost everything before him; then leaning far back in his chairhe began to study the silver set from which all those good things hadbeen taken. The platter was in the form of a flounder, the sugar bowlwas a frog, the cream pitcher a heron, the coffee-pot a pelican. Thesecurious pieces were exquisitely carved, and on each was cut the nameFavart de Caumartin in plain, bold letters. Even on the five-armedsilver candle-stick in which burned fragrant myrtle wax tapers appearedthat striking inscription. He surveyed the room now with a more criticaleye, discovering at once that the pictures, the curtains, the carpets,and indeed all the articles of furniture were costly and beautifulbeyond anything he had ever seen before. Evidently he was in JudgeFavart de Caumartin's house.
The moon was shining brilliantly when Coleman went forth for a shortwalk in the street. Not many people were abroad, it being thedinner-hour, but certain cafes were crowded with men and women who weredrinking champagne and discussing the dishes on well-spread tables.
At the door of one these gorgeous rooms Coleman met the young man whom afew hours before he had seen leading the singers in the street. Itoccurred to him that now was as good as any time to present his letterto the Judge, so he forthwith stepped near him and said, lifting hishat:
"I believe I have the honor of meeting Judge Favart de Caumartin?"
The gentleman stared at him a moment very deliberately, then, with justa suspicion of a smile and with a courteous dignity wholly inimitableand indescribable, doffed his queer little black cap as he spoke:
"And who does me the honor of addressing me?"
"I am Hepworth Coleman of New York?"
"Ah!"
"I hold a letter to you from Mr. Phineas Cartwright, of the firm ofCartwright & Vanderveer, bankers."
"Indeed! I feel honored."
Coleman produced the letter and tendered it: but not without a vaguefeeling of insecurity of some sort. He had not expected this peculiarreserve and caution on the part of the Judge. Could it be that he was tobe treated as an infliction to be borne for mere policy's sake. Hisdistrust and doubt, however, were of short duration, for the Judge hadno sooner read the epistle, which was much longer than any mere letterof introduction, than his whole manner changed. He held out his hand.
"I am charmed, delighted, sir," he said, with a slight creole accentthat made his voice very pleasing. "I am proud to see you. I hope youfind your rooms agreeable."
Coleman clasped his hand and felt that measure of relief which comeswhen one is suddenly lifted out of a very awkward situation.
The Judge read the banker's letter over again with great deliberationand apparently with much concentration of mind, while Coleman, who couldnot remove his eyes from his fascinating dark face, stood waiting for anopportunity to say:
"You do me infinite honor, Judge, in quartering me in your own house. Ihad not expected and could not expect such hospitality."
The Judge hesitated, then with a calm smile remarked that whatever hecould do for so distinguished a visitor would be but a small expressionof the greater hospitality that he would like to bestow were he able.
"And now," he presently continued, "come with me to my own privateapartments, where we can have some quiet conversation and a smoke."
Coleman could not fail to see that the Judge was still somewhat touchedwith wine, though the mood of wild hilarity had passed off.
They passed along the street until they reached a narrow blind alleyinto which the moonlight fell but dimly between dusky walls.
To Coleman's surprise the Judge led the way into this, then up a flightof winding and rather rickety stairs to a dark hall, along which theypassed to what seemed a great distance. At the end the Judge fumbled forsome time, and by some means opened a low, heavy door leading into aroom that reeked with the odor of tobacco and the fumes of wine. Passingacross this by the light of a dim dormer window they reached a closepassageway which led to another prison-like door, which the Judgemanaged to open after a great deal of trouble. The room that they nowentered was exceedingly small--a mere cell in extent, as Coleman feltrather than saw, the walls, damp and grimy, being almost within reach oneither hand.
"Stand here for one moment, please," said the Judge, touching Coleman'sarm, "until I call a servant."
Then he stepped briskly back through the doorway and drew the solidshutter to with a hollow clang. Some strange echoes went wandering awayas if from distance to distance, above, below, around, followed byabsolute silence. A faint flicker of light came from above, but itseemed a reflection rather than a direct beam from the moon, and the airwas close, heavy, atrociously bad.
Coleman stood amazed for a few moments before going to the door, whichhe found immovable. He groped around the wall only to discover thatthere was no other outlet.
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