She stayed her agitation, and asked: "What are your orders?"
"Not to admit any one."
"To the cells?"
"The cells, and the arena also."
"Oh, I see! You can let me stand at the gate yonder?"
"Well—yes. But if you are the monk's friend, why do you want to see him die?"
She made no reply, but took from a pocket a bezant, and contrived to throw its yellow gleam in the sentinel's eyes.
"Is the gate locked?"
"No, it is barred on this side."
"Does it open into the arena?"