"She may be here," he muttered, and his heart beat more quickly at the thought. He twisted the key, and the door opened and he passed in.
He was not sure, but he thought he heard a sound, but that might be the prisoner moving on the straw. As he stood within the dark cell, he spoke. "Is anyone here?"
There was no answer to the question, and he went farther in, holding out his lantern to scan the place with its aid. The straw was there, but no one on it. His foot kicked against a water-jar, and he heard the splash of the water, and saw it gleam as it scattered on the horrid floor. A rat was not far away, trying to carry with him in his flight a piece of black bread; but, look where he would, there was no other sign of life. Certainly nothing human was there.
He turned away, in disappointment, but, looking up, he started, and the lantern almost fell from his hand in the extremity of his alarm. Two Familiars were between him and the door, one carrying a lantern, the other closing the door as though to shut themselves and this intruder in.
"Who are you? and what are you doing here?" the nearer one asked, in a sharp and angry tone. "How dare you intrude like this?"
Herman made no answer, and the instinct of caution made him use his free hand to draw his cap low down to his eyebrows, to hide himself as much as possible. He had a thought of what might follow if he got away, and these men should recognise him. And while doing this, and staring at these men, he was wondering what he should do next—how he should get away.
"Answer my questions!" came the demand imperatively.
"I'll answer no questions!" cried Herman, his courage rising; and he was resolute to stand at nothing rather than be held a prisoner, to be at the mercy of these creatures who were facing him. He thought, and quickly, that he would make a sudden rush. He would dash his lantern in the cowled face of one of them, and then with his doubled fist strike out at both, in the hope, by taking them unawares, to throw them, and pass through the doorway.
He was in the act of throwing his hand back to hurl the lantern, but the others were on him, and one long, lean hand was feeling for his throat. Against such odds he dropped the lantern to be free. He gripped the wrist that was near his throat, and with the free hand he dashed his fist in the face of the other, who staggered back with a cry of pain.
But there was more to be done. He gave the wrist which he was gripping a twist which seemed to crack, and a scream of agony followed. But still the men pressed on him. Herman dropped the maimed hand so that his own two might be free; and because he fought as one who knew that defeat meant torture and death, his fists came with double weight until those who sought to overwhelm him put up their hands to ward off his quick and terrific blows from their faces. He gave them neither time nor mercy.