“Duke—tyrant, I am in thy power!” shouted Adrian, gazing upon the circle of men-at-arms who surrounded him. “These thongs, they are for my wrists! Yon chains—they soon will fasten this body to the dungeon floor! Thou art sure of thy victim—Lo! I defy thee!”
And as he spoke, there came gliding from the darkness of the cavern, two forms, clad in robes of sable velvet, who advanced hastily along the floor, and stood between the victim and the Duke.
“Lo! I defy thee! Tremble for thine own head, tyrant and coward! Tremble and turn pale, for lo! even now, the axe glimmers high above thy head, whetted for the Wronger’s blood—in a moment it descends—beware the blow!”
And as he spoke, while the Duke recoiled with a sudden start, and even the Doomsman trembled as he beheld the sable figures standing before his victim, silent and motionless, yet with the long curved dagger in their girdles, and the parchment scroll in their hands, all suddenly became dim and indistinct, and the cavern was wrapped in darkness.
The lights burning on the mound, were extinguished by an unknown hand, while every eye beheld a waving robe of white, fluttering in the air, the moment ere darkness came down upon the scene.
“Torches there!” shouted the Duke—“Look to the prisoner, vassals! Torches there, I say!”
Torches were presently seen hurrying from the farther end of the cavern, borne in the firm grasp of men-at-arms, and in a few moments a ruddy light was thrown around the spot where stood the Duke.
“Dog!” exclaimed the Duke, gazing hurriedly around—“Thou shalt bitterly rue this foul treason.”
He looked around in vain. His prisoner was gone, and with him had disappeared the banner of the Winged Leopard.
The light of torches again gleamed around the Mound of the Dead. The figure of a maiden lay extended along the steps of stone, her white robes waving round her insensible form—it was the Ladye Annabel.