At a slow pace, but with his horse reeking with the effects of his former hot speed, Ross rode into the city. He took a circuitous route, to his own counting-house, and held a long consultation with a young man whom he found there. This lasted several hours; and then the two walked arm-in-arm toward the city prison.
Through the gloomy labyrinths of this prison the two men made their way, conversing together in low voices; a turnkey went before them, humming a tune to himself, and sometimes raising an accompaniment by playfully dashing a huge iron key, which he held in one hand, against the door of some prisoner’s cell, smiling grimly as he heard the poor inmate spring forward, in the vain hope that some friend had come to break the gloom of his bondage. From time to time, the two visitors seemed to study this man’s face with close scrutiny; and as some new manifestation of character broke forth in his manner or his song, they would exchange glances that were full of meaning.
“Offer him gold!” whispered Ross to his companion; “say that is for his trouble; we can judge something by the manner in which he receives it.”
“True,” was the emphatic but whispered reply, “it will be a sure test.”
The officer paused at the entrance of a cell, and placed his key in the lock. “This is De Grainges’ cell, gentlemen; how long will you wish to stay with him?”
“We may wish to remain so long that you will suffer some inconvenience,” said Ross’s companion, dropping his hand into a pocket with that easy grace which renders the most singular acts of some men perfectly natural in their seeming. “Here is something to repay the trouble we may occasion.”
The turnkey reached forth his hand eagerly for the silver coin which he supposed the stranger was about to offer him, but when he saw a bright piece of gold glittering in his palm, the sudden joy of his heart broke with a sort of gloating ferocity over his face, and with a low chuckle he folded his other hand over the gold, and began to rub the palms together, with the coin between them in a warm clasp, as if he thought thus to infuse some portion of the precious metal into his own person.
Ross and his companion had stepped within the cell, and thus, clouded with semi-darkness themselves, watched the man, whose face was fully revealed in the broadly-lighted corridor.
“It will do,” whispered Ross, smiling, “it will do.”
“Yes,” said the other thoughtfully; “he is one of those who would sell his soul for money.”