He had a conference with the chief warder, and, taking the prisoner into the courtyard, Elk spoke his mind.
“What happens to you if you spill the beans, Frog?” he asked.
The man showed his teeth in an unpleasant smile.
“The beans aren’t grown that I can spill,” he said.
Elk looked around. The courtyard was a small, stone-paved quadrangle, surrounded by high, discoloured walls. Against one of these was a little shed with grey sliding doors.
“Come here,” said Elk.
He took the key that the chief warder had given him, unlocked the doors and slid them back. They were looking into a bare, clean apartment with whitewashed walls. Across the ceiling ran two stout oak beams, and between them three stubby steel bars.
The prisoner frowned as Elk walked to a long steel lever near one of the walls.
“Watch, Frog!” he said.
He pulled at the lever, and the centre of the floor divided and fell with a crash, revealing a deep, brick-lined pit.