Whether by accident or design the lamp had been so placed that as the two men approached its light fell full upon their faces, while that of the prisoner remained in shadow. He was leaning forward with both elbows on the table, his thin, tapering fingers toying with the pen and ink-horn which had been placed close to his hand.
“I trust that everything has been arranged for your comfort, Sir Percy?” Chauvelin asked with a sarcastic little smile.
“I thank you, sir,” replied Blakeney politely.
“You feel refreshed, I hope?”
“Greatly so, I assure you. But I am still demmed sleepy; and if you would kindly be brief—”
“You have not changed your mind, sir?” queried Chauvelin, and a note of anxiety, which he vainly tried to conceal, quivered in his voice.
“No, my good M. Chambertin,” replied Blakeney with the same urbane courtesy, “I have not changed my mind.”
A sigh of relief escaped the lips of both the men. The prisoner certainly had spoken in a clearer and firmer voice; but whatever renewed strength wine and food had imparted to him he apparently did not mean to employ in renewed obstinacy. Chauvelin, after a moment’s pause, resumed more calmly:
“You are prepared to direct us to the place where little Capet lies hidden?”
“I am prepared to do anything, sir, to get out of this d—d hole.”