“Peace, friends! Peace be unto you!”
Stern started up in wild amaze.
From his nerveless fingers the pistol dropped. And, as it clattered on the floor, he cried:
“English? You speak English? Who are you? English! English! Oh, my God!”
CHAPTER XXVII
DOOMED!
The aged man stood for a moment as though tranced at sound of the engineer's voice. Then, tapping feebly with his staff, he advanced a pace or two into the dungeon. And Stern and Beatrice--who now had sprung up, too, and was likewise staring at this singular apparition--heard once again the words:
“Peace, friends! Peace!”
Stern snatched up the revolver and leveled it.
“Stop there!” he shouted. “Another step and I--I--”
The old man hesitated, one hand holding the staff, the other groping out vacantly in front of him, as though to touch the prisoners. Behind him, the dull blue light cast its vague glow. Stern, seeing his bald and shaking head, lean, corded hand, and trembling body wrapped in its mantle of coarse brown stuff, could not finish the threat.