The countess followed her guide without hesitation; she had perfect confidence in Girdel, and after a short journey they both stood in front of a heavy iron door.
"Here we are," said the athlete, triumphantly; and taking an iron bar which stood in a corner in his hand, he cried in stentorian tones:
"Get up, scoundrel, let us look at you!"
Low moans answered the gruff command, and Irene uttered a cry of terror, for in the cell a human form moved.
"Step nearer, mademoiselle," said Girdel, putting on the manners of a circus proprietor; "the wild beast is pretty tame now—we have taken out its teeth and chained it."
"But I do not understand—" stammered Irene.
"Who this beast is? You shall know it at once; the magnificent personage is Simon, the factotum of the Marquis Fougereuse. In his leisure hours the miserable wretch occupies himself with poisoning experiments, and it would not be a loss to humanity if he should never see daylight again. Come, boy, play your tricks; the performance begins."
"Mercy," whispered Simon, for he was really the prisoner, "let me free."
"Really? Perhaps later on, but now you must obey. Quick, tell us what brought you here."