The Master of the tower and Count Zeno were still conversing together. The marines had now searched every corner of the building, and their leader returned with the report that nothing of a suspicious nature was to be found.

Feodor hereupon took a speaking-trumpet in his hand.

"Permit me," said he, "to give my castellan orders for the refreshment of your brave men. The fellow hears badly."So saying he spoke through the trumpet into the porter's ear. No one else was able to make out what he said. The castellan, however, appeared to understand the command. He made a sign to the sailors and marines who stood at the door, and begged them to seize hold of the beer-cask on the floor and carry it out. Of this, surely, they might quite safely drink. The liquor, they reflected, could not well be poisoned, for both the Master and their own commander had drunk from the cask.

When the men had disappeared Feodor rose and took from a small cupboard in the wall a bottle of sherry and two wine glasses, which he filled. The two men were once more alone.

"I am in no great hurry to leave this place," observed Count Zeno, after a pause. "I should like to take advantage of your hospitality for the night, if you can make that convenient. I will explain to you my motive for such a request."

"Before doing so," said Feodor rising, "allow me to inform the lady of the house that her guests are to stay over night. It will give me the utmost pleasure to make provision for yourself and your company. She, of course, will attend to the comfort of her guests."

"You are most kind," observed Zeno as the Master made his way into the adjacent room, which was Mashinka's. Feodor left the door ajar so that Zeno might hear what was said.

"There is only one bed in Alexander's room, but they can sleep together well enough for one night, I suppose."

Of course they could! Alexander would be only too pleased to have Paul actually beside him before falling asleep. No longer would he need to repeat the old nightly petition. That which he had so long asked was at length within his very embrace.

Feodor now returned to Zeno.

"Now, sir," said he, "I can hear all you may have to say. But first let us drink to each other."

They touched glasses, bowed to each other, and drank."In the first place," began Zeno, after a short silence, "I may as well inform you that all last night I and my entire crew thought we heard something very like the tolling of a bell away in the distance before us."

"Indeed," observed the Master with the most perfect calm.

"Yes," Zeno went on; "the tolling quite confused us. My officers, who, I fear, are by no means too expert with the compass and chart, declared that the sounds must have proceeded from the lighthouse of Gustavsvarn, whose lights, of course, could not then be seen in the dense fog. On the other hand, my coxswain, who, it is true, is a clumsy fellow enough, swears that it is impossible for the sound of a bell in Gustavsvarn to be heard in this quarter, for Gustavsvarn lies due north-east, while the sound we heard came more from the east. In his opinion the bell-ringing is simply nothing but the pranks of evil spirits. Just about here, he declares, there is a sunken town on the deep sea-bottom, and on foggy nights seamen always hear its minster bell tolling under the sea. The sound is too often their destruction, for the spectres' bell invariably leads them wherever the most frightful reefs and cliffs are to be found. There is quite a legend on the subject, I believe. Do you know the story at all?"

"Oh yes," said Feodor quietly, "I know it well."

"Pray have the goodness to tell it me."

On the spur of the moment Feodor composed and embellished a legend of a sunken town, from which on dark and foggy nights was heard the tolling of a minster bell. A Russian, he reflected, even although a commodore, is by nature superstitious. Possibly, he imagined, he would be satisfied with such an explanation.

"But do you yourself believe in this legend?" asked Zeno with a searching look, when he had finished.

Feodor met his questioner's gaze without a tremor, and shrugged his shoulders.

"Pooh!" he ejaculated; "why should I believe such stuff?""And yet," pursued Zeno, "there must be some truth in the story. The tolling of the bell had actually drawn us into such a dangerous position that, had the fog not lifted just before daybreak, I and my vessel should by this time have been at the bottom together. We dropped anchor not a moment too soon. But whence do the sounds come? One might conclude that they proceeded from some church spire on the island of Dago itself. But then, of course, no church bells are ever rung at night except at the service on Christmas Eve. Now, Baron Helmford, can you explain this mystery to me in any way?"

"Tolerably well, I fancy," said Feodor. "Without having recourse to any ghost stories, I think these sounds are capable of being explained quite satisfactorily—and that on purely scientific grounds. The sounds, I take it, do, in fact, come from Gustavsvarn lighthouse. The heavy atmosphere, of course, depresses the sound, which is then carried along the smooth surface of the water twice as far as it would be in fine weather. Sound has admittedly much greater travelling power in such an atmosphere than in clear weather."

"Yes, I know that," said Zeno. "But the altered direction?"

"That also has quite a simple explanation. The fog itself proceeds from the south-west. This, of course, prevents the tolling of the bell from coming in a perfectly straight line from Gustavsvarn. Moreover, the vibrations, being echoed back by the cliffs of Dago, seem even louder, and in this way, too, it may appear as if they actually proceeded from the island itself."

"That is true. But if, as you say, the cliffs of Dago merely echo back the sound of the bell at Gustavsvarn, then one must also hear the tolling perfectly well from here."

"That is so," said Feodor; "I have often heard it here."

"Very well, then," said Zeno; "I should like to convince myself of the matter, and will therefore accept your hospitality for the night.""That," said the Master, with a bow, "I need hardly repeat, you are most welcome to do."

During the remainder of the day Count Zeno acted as if he were most deeply interested in all the sciences. He requested his host to instruct him in the various uses of all the instruments which lay around. He even pretended never to have seen a galvanic battery or a theodolite.

There was, however, one object in the room the purpose of which he was really unable to divine, but to inquire about which might have seemed the height of simplicity. It was a long, thick silken cord which hung down from the ceiling. What could it be? A bell-rope? But what purpose, he asked himself, would that serve? The only servant in the building was stone-deaf, so it would be of little use ringing for him.

Feodor had moved his chair in front of this hanging cord in such a way as to make it impossible for any one to approach it.

The two men sat and discussed various scientific experiments and, from time to time, the wine. While they were engaged in these occupations night began to fall. They could hear the two boys talking in the next room. The lads wished Mashinka good-night, and then went off to their bedroom. Shortly afterwards the men heard a deep sigh, followed by the opening words of a prayer. The woman was evidently commending her soul to Heaven during the night. All three, therefore, would soon be asleep.

"Now we may go up to the observatory," said Feodor, rising from his chair. "There we can listen better to the sound of the bell."

He stepped over to the fireplace in order to light a small hand lamp with which to show the way.

As soon as Feodor had risen from his seat and turned his back on Zeno, the latter stepped swiftly and noiselessly towards the silken cord and pulled it violently.

Immediately the deep tones of the hidden bell sounded from above."Ha!" he cried in triumphant wrath; "so the bell is here!"

"Wretch!" hissed Feodor beneath his breath; "you yourself have given the signal!"

Zeno drew his sword and sprang to the door opening on the staircase. Feodor was quite unarmed. The Commodore threw the door open and shrilly blew his seaman's whistle.

Immediately, as if in response to the shrill sound, the hurried footsteps of men were heard ascending the dark staircase.

"Seize that man and put him in irons!" ordered Zeno, pointing with his naked sword to Feodor.

But the men seized Zeno himself, tore the sword from his grasp, and bound his hands behind him. They were not his own seamen as he had expected, but the Master's hidden companions. In a few moments he was bound fast in the armchair in which he had been comfortably seated a few minutes before, and ere he could utter a word he was securely gagged.

"Well," said Feodor, placing himself calmly before his prisoner, "so you have discovered where the bell-ringers are, and for whom they ring! Doubtless you would like also to know who it was that rang. I am Count Feodor von Ungern, the brother whom you betrayed, whom you falsely accused, whom you had condemned to lifelong exile, whom you made a wretched fugitive, whose wife you carried off, and whose child you branded with shame. Since those days I have had no other thought but that of vengeance. I built this tower here merely that I might see your accursed nation's vessels dashed in pieces beneath it. Six hundred of them have I destroyed already, and your proud three-decker will be the first of the seventh hundred. The very moment you pulled that cord, my trusty men burst forth from their concealment, overcame your company, and, without a doubt, slew every one. And now they will put on your men's uniforms, and row off in your own boat to your ship. Then there will be a bath of blood! When every life has been destroyed they will set fire to the ship and let her burn to cinders. Ay! and you will be able to see the magnificent spectacle from the tower windows. There you may enjoy it until at last, with a final crash, the hull bursts into the air. At this sound our two boys will rush out of bed half dressed. To my son I will say: 'Look! That brand on your shoulder which has banished you for ever from the world, which prevents you from ever calling any honourable woman your wife, or disclosing your true name; that mark of infamy, which buries you alive and damns you for ever before you have even sinned—it was that man who stamped it upon you! He it was who robbed you of your heritage, who robbed you of your mother's heart—of everything on earth. He has turned your father into a devil, and of earth he has made a hell for you. That man has a son. There he stands. That stripling is to blame for all your misery. He had no right even to come into the world; by his very birth he utterly destroyed both you and me. He is a thief who has stolen away your good name. Well, you have there two swords. Fall upon each other!' I will say all this, and then you will enjoy the sight of my son killing yours. It may be, of course, that they will kill each other. But what matters that? We will both look on, quite calm and silent. When they have done with each other I will loosen your cords. It will then be our turn. For do not think that I intend to murder you like an assassin. No; I will place your own sword in your hand, and then—then may the Devil and Hell judge us! ... Men! Take him away!"

The bound man writhed in an agony and his eyes gazed beseechingly at his brother.

But Feodor's face remained cold as marble.