“Who are you?  What do you want?” exclaimed Dumiger, “for there is such a thing as intrusion even in a prison.”

The man whom he addressed only replied by taking possession of the single chair which stood by the bedside; he then very quietly and coolly took a tinder-box from his pocket, struck a light in the most deliberate manner, and lit the small lamp which had remained unreplenished from the preceding evening.  Dumiger had then an opportunity of examining his visitor.

He was a little, jesuitical, sly, crafty, leering person, with a quick, intelligent, practical eye—­a man who was evidently conversant with the world; and to judge from the sensual expression of his mouth and the protuberance at the nape of the neck, whose world was of the worst description—­a phrenologist or physiognomist would have hung him at once.  It is fortunate for some men that these sciences are not more extensively understood, or a great many persons would suffer for their natural and cerebral conformation.

“You will soon be free, my son.”

“Free! thank God!” exclaimed Dumiger, throwing himself back on his pillow and clasping his hands in gratitude.

“You are too quick, young man,” continued the stranger.  “I said you would soon be free, if—­you see there is an if.  It is for you to remove it.”

“If—­if what?  I will do anything you tell me,” almost shrieked Dumiger, so terrified was he at the possibility of his hopes deserting him.

“Well,” continued the little man, putting on his spectacles and examining the roll of his papers, “I will commence by telling you that I am a native of Hamburgh and like yourself, a great mechanist.  I was sent for by the Council last evening, to examine all the models which have been received.  I do not hesitate to say to you that yours is by far the best.”

“God be praised, Marguerite, Marguerite!” ejaculated Dumiger.

“Yes,” quickly remarked the mysterious visitor, “yours is by far superior to all the rest, but it will not win the prize.”

“Not win the prize!” said Dumiger; for now all his ambition had returned to him.

“Certainly not,” was the reply; “you know as well as I do that the machinery requires some directing power.  No one knows how to apply it:  no one knows the secret.”

“Yes, there is a secret,” said the youth, his face brightening even through the cold, clammy prison atmosphere.

“And you cannot get out to tell it, or to arrange your own work, for here I have a schedule of the judgments for debt which have been lodged against you;” and he held out a list some twelve inches in length.

Dumiger groaned.  “And are there no means of paying this?”

“You can answer that question as well as myself,” replied the man.  “I will tell you that there are none for the present; but there is one way in which the clock may still be the admiration of Dantzic, and yourself free with a great independence in three days.”