Page:The Black Cat v01no01 (1895-10).pdf/22

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20
Miss Wood,—Stenographer

me in matters of a secret, perhaps a dangerous nature. By this time, however, it was too late for me to retreat. All that I could do was to vow, as I did with all my heart, that no matter what I learned while with these people I would make no use of it.

"'Upon leaving the train, after a ride of about two hours and a half, I found myself in Rockwood, a desolate little way station in the most dreary section I had ever seen. The only sign of life was a top carriage, drawn by a pair of lean horses and driven by the son of my companion, a man about thirty years of age. He had handsome features, but, somehow, his bloodshot eyes and dissipated look impressed me even more unfavorably than had his mother's appearance. I was directed to take the back seat, and Mrs. Westinghouse sat in front beside her son.

"'As we drove off the young man put a question at once which I did not hear, but his mother in her usual voice assured him that I was a deaf mute and had been secured at a large salary for that reason. Then they proceeded with their conversation without restriction, but the road was so stony and our speed so great that I caught only a little of it. What I heard did not serve to make me feel any easier. They spoke of some person, who appeared to be a relative, with the most dreadful epithets, and appeared to be planning some way to bring him to terms, should he prove obstinate after they arrived with the stenographer. Before we had gone a mile I was not only sick of my bargain, but ready to jump from the carriage to escape it.

"'The aspect of the country, also, was enough to make the most hilarious person feel melancholy. It was rocky, sterile, and almost uninhabited. The few farmhouses we passed were, all save one, untenanted and falling to pieces. The fields were covered with a thick growth of bayberry bushes or stunted firs.

"'The house was, as nearly as I can judge, about three miles from the station. It had once been a fine mansion, but showed signs of neglect and age. The paint was worn off in patches; the floor of the piazza was rotten. The inside of the house, however, was fairly comfortable, the furniture being extremely old-fashioned and quaint.

"'I could hardly touch a mouthful of supper, and soon excused myself from the table. Wandering around the piazza