"Yes, general, and as there is but one way to reach it, I resume my proper place, and follow you, as in duty bound."
Melac began to ascend the stairs, the monk coming behind him, with an aspect the very opposite of that he had endeavored to maintain all day. His stooping shoulders were flung back, his head was erect, and in his eyes there sat a threatening devil, which, if Melac could have seen it, would have made his heart grow chill with apprehension. But Melac, too, was no longer the same. Up to this moment he had assumed an appearance of friendliness toward his companion. But now his eye flashed, and his hand clutched his sword, while deep in his heart flowed a current of treachery, which, translated into words ran thus:
"I do not see why he should have any part in this treasure. As soon as he has pointed out the spot, I will catch him in my arms and hurl him down into the body of the church. By Heaven! the life of one miserable monk never was worth a million of treasure!"
Did the monk suspect what was passing within the mind of the general? Perhaps he did; for well he knew that he was capable of any amount of atrocity.
On they went, sometimes stumbling in the dark, sometimes emerging into the light, until at last they reached the topmost step where Melac halted to breathe.
"Are we almost there?" asked he.
"Almost there." echoed the monk, while with a swift movement of his hand he drew from under his cassock two long, stout thongs of hide.
"What are you doing there?" asked Melac.
"I am making ready my lasso." replied he, throwing one of the thongs over the head of the general; and, before the latter had time to recover from his surprise, it was passed around his body, and his hands were pinioned fast behind.
Melac comprehended that he was betrayed, and making desperate efforts to free himself, he lost his footing, and fell at full length on the granite pavement of the tower. The monk now sprang upon his body, and drawing from his bosom a long handkerchief, he tied it fast over his victim's mouth.