Then he told her why she was there, why he was there—and of the 26th. The dreadful 26th!
Her eyes grew wide with horror and understanding; her bosom rose and fell rapidly with the sobs of suppressed terror. At last he had finished his stupefying tale; they sat side by side staring into each other's eyes, helpless, stricken.
"God in heaven!" she repeated over and over again, in a piteous whisper.
The candle flickered with feeble interest in the shadows that began to grow in the farthest corner. The girl drew closer to the side of the strong yet powerless man. Their gaze went to the sputtering candle. It was going out and they would be in utter darkness. And yet neither thought of the supply of fresh candles in the corner.
King brought himself out of the strange lethargy with a jerk. It was high time, for the light was going.
"Quick!" he cried. "The candle! Light a fresh one. My hands are bound."
She crept to the candles and joined the wicks. A new light grew as the old one died. Then she stood erect, looking down upon him.
"You are bound. I forgot."
She started forward, dropping to her knees beside him, an eager gleam in her eyes. "If I can untie the rope—will that help? Can you do anything? You are strong. There must be a way. There must be one little chance for you—for us. Let me try."
"By Jove," he whispered admiringly, his spirits leaping to meet hers. "You've got pluck. You put new life in me. I—I was almost a—a quitter."