“This is the place,” he said in a low tone. “Enter,” and he opened the door and stood aside.
I noted how thick it was, how heavy—plainly no cry, however shrill and agonized, could pierce it. For an instant the thought came to me to hurl myself upon my guards, to tear them by the throat until they should be forced to kill me—that would be the easier way. Yet—oh, heart of youth!—perhaps beyond the door there were not certain death—there might yet be a chance—and life was sweet!
So I stepped across the threshold and heard the door swing shut behind me.
CHAPTER X
THE QUESTION
Two torches blazing from brackets in the wall at the farther end threw fantastic shadows along the floor and up against the ceiling. For an instant, as I looked at them, my eyes were dazzled, and then I saw that on a platform below the lights sat Roquefort and by his side d’Aurilly. A dozen men-at-arms stood guard, with something sinister and threatening in their very immobility, and in the corner to one side I caught a glimpse of an array of great, shapeless things, whose uses I did not permit my thoughts to dwell upon.
“This way, sirrah!” called Roquefort, and then sat silent until I stood before him, the torchlight full upon my face. It was then I understood why the torches were so placed—the face of the judge in shadow—the face of the prisoner in full light. How many had stood so and felt those eyes probing deep into their souls! For even from the shadow I could catch the menacing gleam of those serpent’s eyes.
“Well, M. de Marsan,” he began at last, “it seems that Cadillac could not save you after all, despite your lying.”
“Not yet, Monsieur,” I answered, still with some show of confidence.
“Not yet!” he cried. “Body of God! Think you there is yet a chance? Three shots, last night, drove him headlong back into the plain. Why, Monsieur, he would be too late were he thundering at the gate this instant!”
I saw d’Aurilly leering down at me, all his malicious joy in his hawk-face, and the sight fired my blood.