At that instant another hollow groan echoed through the subterranean.
"She lives!" cried the man; and in another moment Markham heard him drawing back the bolts of the massive door which he had observed in the scullery.
Richard groped his way towards him, and said, "She lives? whom do you allude to? Surely there cannot be a female imprisoned——"
"Be silent, in the name of heaven!" interrupted the man, in a whisper. "The life of an unhappy woman depends upon your secrecy—whoever you may be."
"Then would I rather aid than harm you and her, both," answered Markham.
Another groan was heard; and Richard could now distinguish the direction from which it came.
But still the massive door remained unopened.
"This bolt,—this bolt!" muttered the man in a tone expressive of commingled rage and despair. "Oh! for a light!"
"Can you not procure one?" demanded Richard.
"Stay," said the man—"a good thought! There should be candles somewhere here—and matches. By Jove! here is a candle—and, on this shelf—yes—here are matches also!"