“Death!”
The verdict was uttered in a hideous tone. The word seemed to echo from the walls of the room.
“Death!”
Had Harry heard the word again, or was his imagination at work. As he looked at the form before him, he could think of nothing but that emphatic verdict. Silence filled the room.
Harry felt a strange desire to blurt out answers to the questions. He restrained himself with difficulty. The inquisitor seemed to divine his emotions.
“The choice is yours,” came the slow, modulated voice. “At present you have decided to say nothing. Later, you may change your desire. When you are ready, you may knock upon the door — and you will have your opportunity.
“But be sure” — the words carried an insidious warning — “that you are ready to answer all that may be asked! You will have but one opportunity. Should you resort to deception, your last chance will be lost!”
The words impressed Harry. At the same time, they gave him hope. They increased his determination to maintain silence for the present.
“One last warning,” came the voice. “When you decide to speak — and you will decide to do so — be sure that you do not delay too long. I may not be ready at the moment which you choose. You must allow sufficient time.”
The border of the dark gown swept the floor as the inquisitor turned. With stately stride he went to the doorway. His form seemed to heighten as he reached the step. There he turned again, and his solemn voice carried an awe-inspiring tone as it came to Harry’s ears.