“The bolt moves—ha! The stone, the massive stone glides from the wall—another push at the bolt! There—blood o’ Mahound, I behold a dark passage into this dismal room! ‘Slife! there is a current of air rushing from this open space—what may it mean?”
“Dost wish to hide the corse? Eh—most noble captain? Lay hold of t’other end o’ th’ coffin, and I will raise this end. We’ll bear it to the stone-room!”
In a moment they raised the coffin, and bearing it toward the open space, Balvardo retreated backwards, through the passage, and in another instant was lost to view, while the foot of the coffin still projected into the dungeon-cell.
“Bear it through the passage, Glow-worm!” cried Balvardo. “In a moment we will have it laid along the floor of this dreary place!”
“It is heavy,” cried the old man; “my strength fails me. Thou wilt have to bear the burden thyself, most noble captain! Glow-worm lifts no heavy burden!”
“Be it so,” growled Balvardo. “Slife I like not to be alone with the dead! Slowly, slowly, drag the coffin along the floor of stone, there—it rests against the wall! Now for the grave.”
“What dreary sound is that, thundering far above? Oft have I heard it, yet ne’er could tell what it might mean?”
“The Convent clock strikes—one!” muttered Balvardo. “A few moments and my reward is sure!”
“Beware the secret spring!” shrieked the old man, as though his crazed mind had been fixed by some sudden thought. “Beware the secret spring! It sticks from the floor near the very wall, where thou hast laid the coffin. An’ thy foot presses the spring the stone rolls back, and—he, he, he—thou art buried alive!”
It was too late! Even as the old man spoke, Balvardo stumbled along the floor of the stone-room, his foot pressed the point of iron projecting from the floor, and the massive rock rolled back to its place, in the masonry of the substantial wall.