“Not escaped?” cried Humphrey.
“Not escaped!—not taken!” said the woman. “He is in hiding about the place, and I have seen him.”
She seemed to shudder, and her sobs grew more frequent.
“He has not dared to come to you?”
“No, sir; but he came near enough to speak to and threaten me. He will come some night and drag me away, and it would be better to die. Ah!”
She uttered a low cry; and as Humphrey listened he heard low, quick talking, a faint rustling overhead, and then the sound of the voices died away.
“Discovered!” said Humphrey, bitterly. “Fate is working against me now. Better, as she said, to die.”
A quarter of an hour’s silence ensued, and conscious that at any moment he might be watched, as far as the deep gloom would allow, Humphrey seated himself upon the edge of the old stone altar, and folded his arms, to see what would be the next buffet of fate he was to bear.
He had not long to wait.
There was the sound of a challenge at the end of the corridor, and a quick reply, followed by an angry muttering, and Humphrey laughed mockingly.