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Before the chair, in which Mr. Thorneycroft was fixed, reached the ground, terror had already stolen away his senses. When he finally awoke, it was to the acrid sting of smelling salts forced under his nose, and the sight of two figures, grotesquely masked and cloaked in sable, looming over him. Nearby stood a third figure, clutching a lantern with an otherworldly glow. Thorneycroft’s gaze darted around for his companions, but their chairs sat empty, leaving him alone in his plight.

His cries and pleas were met with eerie silence. The masked figures, showing no acknowledgment of his presence, released the bindings that secured him to the chair with a swift motion. Seizing him under the arms, they dragged him out of the vault and down a narrow passageway. The walls seemed to close in on him as they moved, until they emerged into a vast chamber sheathed in black marble, where Cyprian Rougemont sat on a black velvet throne, his eyes gleaming with malevolent triumph.

“Welcome, Mr. Thorneycroft,” Rougemont sneered. “You have come to seek your daughter. Behold her!”

With a dramatic flourish, the black curtains at the far end of the chamber were drawn back, revealing Evaline Thorneycroft. She stood at the foot of a marble staircase, her face as pale as death, her limbs unnaturally still, but her eyes burning with an unnatural light. At the sight of her, Thorneycroft let out a heart-wrenching cry and tried to rush to her, only to be held back by the masked figures who tightened their grip on his arms.

“Evaline!” he cried. “Evaline!”

But she remained oblivious to his cries, standing as if frozen in place, her eyes turned away.

“What have you done to her?” Thorneycroft demanded, his voice breaking with anguish. “Evaline! Evaline!”

“Call louder,” Rougemont mocked, a cruel smile twisting his lips.

“Do you not know me? Do you not hear me?” Thorneycroft’s voice rose to a frantic shriek.

Still, Evaline did not respond, her figure immovable as a statue.

“I told you you would see her,” Rougemont taunted, “but she is beyond your reach.”

“Not so, not so!” Thorneycroft pleaded. “Come to me, Evaline! Come to your father! Oh, Heaven! She hears me not! She heeds me not! Her senses are gone.”

“She is bound by a spell,” Rougemont declared coldly. “Take a last look at her. You will see her no more.”

With a dismissive wave of his hand, the curtains descended slowly, enshrouding Evaline from view. Thorneycroft groaned in despair, sinking to his knees.

“Are you not content?” Rougemont asked with a sneer. “Will you depart in peace and swear never to return? If so, I will liberate you and your companions.”

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“So far from complying with your request, I swear never to rest until I have rescued my child from you, accursed being!” Thorneycroft vowed, his voice filled with unwavering determination.

“Then you have sealed your doom,” Rougemont replied, a sinister glint in his eye. “But before you are confined, you shall see how Anthony Darcy fares. Bring him along.”

The masked attendants hauled Thorneycroft to his feet and followed Rougemont through an ominous opening on the right. A few steps brought them to the entrance of a cell. Rougemont touched the heavy iron door, which swung open with a grating sound, revealing Anthony chained to a stone in the far corner of the narrow chamber.

For several moments, silence reigned as the captives regarded each other with piteous eyes.

“Oh, Mr. Thorneycroft,” Anthony finally cried, his voice choked with guilt. “Forgive me. I have destroyed your daughter.”

“You!” Thorneycroft exclaimed, his eyes wide with astonishment.

“It is true,” Rougemont confirmed, his voice dripping with malice.

Anthony’s voice echoed through the chamber, filled with desperate sorrow. “I would have saved her if it had been possible!” he cried. “I warned her that loving me would be her doom. I told her I was bound to a fate that would ensnare her as well—but she wouldn’t listen.”

“Oh!” Thorneycroft gasped, his voice a mix of disbelief and agony.

Rougemont’s derisive laugh cut through the tension like a knife. “You see, it is he you should blame, not me.”

“I would have given my life, my soul, to protect her, if I could!” Anthony’s anguish was palpable.

Thorneycroft’s eyes widened as he fought to keep his sanity. “Horrors crowd upon me until my mind reels,” he cried. Turning to Rougemont, he spat out, “Merciless wretch! Fiend—whatever you are, finish your work of ruin by destroying me. I have nothing left to tie me to this wretched life.”

Rougemont’s laugh was cold and diabolical. “I prefer the miserable to live,” he said. “It is only the happy I seek to destroy. But you have your own obstinacy to thank for your suffering. Bid a lasting farewell to Anthony. You will see him no more.”

“Hold!” exclaimed Anthony, his voice a desperate plea. “A word before we part.”

“Ay, hold!” echoed a loud, imperious voice from the shadows of the passage.

“Who speaks?” Rougemont demanded, a flicker of unease crossing his face.

“I, Gerard Paston!” came the response, as a figure emerged from the darkness. The man, with handsome and resolute features, now stood defiantly before them, a pistol in each hand.

“Gerard Paston?” Anthony murmured in astonishment. “The brother of Clara, my second victim!”

“It is,” Gerard replied, his voice steady. “Your deliverance is at hand, Anthony.”

Rougemont’s rage was palpable, his face contorting with fury. “You dare to come here, Gerard?” he thundered. “Remember, you are bound to me by the same ties as Anthony. You will share his fate.”

Gerard laughed scornfully. “Your threats do not frighten me, Rougemont. Your dark arts have held sway for too long. Release Anthony and this gentleman, or—” He leveled the pistols at Rougemont.

“Fire!” Rougemont bellowed, drawing himself to his full height. “No earthly bullets can harm me.”

“Let’s test that!” came a voice from behind Gerard. It was Ginger, who had crept up unnoticed. He fired a pistol at Rougemont’s chest, but the shot left Rougemont standing, seemingly unharmed.

“You see how futile your weapons are,” Rougemont mocked, his laugh echoing through the chamber.

“It must be the devil!” Ginger cried, fleeing in terror.

“I will try mine,” Gerard said, but before he could pull the triggers, the pistols were ripped from his hands by the masked attendants who had silently approached. They seized him, pinning his arms to his sides.

Rougemont’s cruel smile deepened as he watched the scene unfold. “Your futile resistance only amuses me. Now, prepare to face your doom.”