I could imagine myself a denizen, at the will of Bainrothe, of that weird, gray belfry, shut up with that silent clock, in company with a bed, a chair, and table, denied, perchance, even the comfort of a stove, for fear the flue might utter smoke, and, with it, that kind of revelation, said proverbially to accompany such manifestations; denied books, even writing-materials, the sight of a human face, and furnished with food merely sufficing in quantity and quality to keep soul and body together!

Could I resist this state of things?  Could I sustain it and retain my reason?  No, I felt that the picture my fancy drew, if realized, would make me abject and submissive, change me to a cowardly, cringing slave.  I was not made of the right stuff for martyrdom, only for battle, for resistance, and would put forth my last powers in the effort to save myself from the unendurable trials before me, even if destruction were the consequence.  A pistol-ball in my brain would he preferable to what I saw awaiting me, should Bainrothe succeed in his stratagem, as I doubted not he would do, if determined on it.  I should know freedom in its true sense never again, if that night were suffered to pass without its redemption, if that belfry once were entered.

As carelessly as I could I followed Dinah to the bath-room, ostensibly to direct the temperature of the water, but really to draw out from her all that was possible while the mood of communication possessed her, on the subject so vital to me and my welfare.  Life and death almost were involved in her revelations, and I hastened to wind in the clew while it lingered in my hand; for I knew that she was an eccentric as well as a selfish creature, and might suddenly see fit to withdraw or snap its thread.

“Now, tell me about McDermot, Dinah, what sort of a look has he?  Is he large or small, light or dark, and does he smoke a pipe?”

“He is a great big man, honey, wid red har an’ sort ob chaney-blue eyes; mos while, sometimes he rolls em up in his head, an’ he smells mighty strong of whisky.  I tells you all; his bref mos knocked me down, but I didn’t see no pipe?”

A discouraging account, truly; yet I persevered.  It seemed my only hope to enlist this man on my side, either through his sympathies or sense of duty.  I had no power to command his services on the side of his avarice.  The ring on my finger, the pledge of Wentworth’s troth, a massive circlet of chased gold, was all that remained to me in the shape of valuables.  I did not possess a stiver in that prison, nor own even the clothes on my back.

“Could you not take him a message from me, Dinah?  It is his duty, you know, to assist me; it is on my account, doubtless, he is placed here; and hereafter I can reward him liberally, and you too.  Just now, you know, I am penniless.”

The woman stopped and looked at me, her small black irises mere points, set in extensive, muddy-looking whites, not unfrequently suffused and bloodshot.