“You love her, do you not, Monsieur?” she said quietly, at last. “Too bad your fate should bring you here, for there is no way out.”
No way out! There was a finality in her tone that chilled me. I sat down again trembling, against the wall.
“I bought the secret of this place at a price”—she paused, and her features became frightful, “at a price of body and soul,” she continued, hoarsely. “I had to have it—to save my life—I did not hesitate. Now, it is serving me once more, Monsieur. When I leave it to-morrow, for the last time, it will never again be opened.”
I felt myself gazing, fascinated, over the edge of an abyss.
“It is a very interesting place,” she went on, sneeringly. “The man of whom I—bought it—had been a scholar before he became a brute—I think it is your men of genius who fall the lowest when they fall—and he told me about it one day. He said that at one time this little island was all Paris, and that this cavern was hewn in the rock by some tyrant who ruled here then—a queer name he had—I have forgotten. Its very existence had been unknown for I know not how many centuries, until this beast I tell you of chanced upon the secret of the entrance there. A hundred men have eaten their hearts out, bound in that belt, sitting just where you are sitting.”
I shuddered at the thought. I felt that my blood was chilled, that my manhood was slipping from me.
“You will leave me here to starve, then?” I asked at last.
“No, I will be merciful, Monsieur,” she answered. “I have no wish to torture you. I am, in a way, sorry for you. Before I go I will place by your side a cup of wine. You will drink the wine, and you will fall into a pleasant sleep from which you will never awaken.”
“Oh, you fiend!” I groaned, sick at the thought. “You fiend!”
“I think you understand the situation now,” and she laughed harshly as she arose to go. “Do you suppose for a moment that I will allow the life of one man or of twenty men to stand between me and success? Do you suppose I would go back to the Rue des Marmosets—to the life that was a living hell—for anything on earth? I was so sure that you must die—that I could not with safety spare you, even if I so desired—that I have thrown into the Seine the key of the lock at your belt. That belt is there to stay, Monsieur, until it rots away.”