The attendant reappeared at the door.
"You can enter, ladies," said Caboche; "every one is asleep in the tower."
At the same moment the light from above was extinguished.
The two women, holding to each other, passed through the small gothic door, and reached a dark hall with damp and uneven pavement. At the end of a winding corridor they perceived a light and guided by the gruesome master of the place they set out towards it. The door closed behind them.
Caboche, a wax torch in hand, admitted them into a lower room filled with smoke. In the centre was a table containing the remains of a supper for three. These three were probably the hangman, his wife, and his chief assistant. In a conspicuous place on the wall a parchment was nailed, sealed with the seal of the King. It was the hangman's license. In a corner was a long-handled sword. This was the flaming sword of justice.
Here and there were various rough drawings representing martyrs undergoing the torture.
At the door Caboche made a low bow.
"Your majesty will excuse me," said he, "if I ventured to enter the Louvre and bring you here. But it was the last wish of the gentleman, so that I felt I"—
"You did well, Maître," said Marguerite, "and here is a reward for you."
Caboche looked sadly at the large purse which Marguerite laid on the table.