Then, with face still bowed, he gestured with his hand, whereupon came two hooded familiars and led me forth of his presence. Now as I walked betwixt these shapeless forms that flitted on silent feet and spake no word, my flesh chilled; in despite my reason, for they seemed rather spectres than truly men, yet phantoms of a grim and relentless purposefulness. Voiceless and silent they brought me down stone stairs and along echoing passages into a dim chamber where other cloaked forms moved on soundless feet and spake in hushed and sibilant whispers. Here my bonds were removed and in their place fetters were locked upon my wrists, which done, one came with a lanthorn, who presently led the way along other gloomy passageways where I beheld many narrow, evil-looking doorways. At last my silent guide halted, I heard the rattle of iron, the creak of bolts and a door opened suddenly before me upon a dank and noisome darkness. Into this evil place I was led, and the door clapped to upon me and locked and bolted forthwith. But to my wonder they had left me the lanthorn, and by its flickering beam I stared about me and saw I was in a large dungeon, its corners lost in gloom.
Suddenly as I stood thus, nigh choked with the foul air of the place and full of misgiving, I heard a groaning sigh, and from the shadow of a remote corner a figure reared itself upon its knees to peer under palsied hand with eyes that blinked as if dazzled by this poor light.
"So young—so young—oh, pity! God be merciful to thee—alas, what do you in this place of torment and living death—young sir?"
Now this voice was pitifully cracked and feeble, yet the words were English, wherefore I caught up the lanthorn and coming nearer, set it down where I might better behold the speaker.
"So young—so young! What dost thou among the living dead?"
"I come seeking Sir Richard Brandon!"
Now from the dim figure before me broke a sound that was neither scream nor laughter yet something of both. I saw wild hands upcast to the gloom above, a shrunken, pallid face, the gleam of snow-white hair.
"Oh, God of mercies—oh, God of Justice—at last, oh, God—at last!"
Stooping, I dragged him to the light and found myself suddenly a-trembling so violently that he shook in my gripe.
"What—what mean you?" I cried.