Tristan's hand groped for a spring along the outer edge of the door. At his touch a panel receded. Both he and the monk entered and the door closed noiselessly behind them. Tristan produced a candle and two flints from under his coat of mail. But ere he could light it by striking the flints, the approach of a dim light from the farther end of the tortuous gallery caused him to start, and both watched its approach with dread and misgiving.
Soon a voice fell on their ear, answered by another, and Tristan swiftly drew his companion into a shadowy recess which concealed them while it yet enabled them to hear every word spoken by the two.
"Thus we administer justice in Rome," said the one speaker, in whom Tristan recognized the voice of the Grand Chamberlain.
"Somewhat like in our own feudal chateaux," came back the surly reply.
Tristan started as the voice reached his ear. How came Roger de Laval here in that company?
"You approve?" said the silken voice.
"There is nothing like night and thirst to make the flesh pliable."
"Then why not profit thereby?—But are you still resolved upon this thing?"—
There was a pause. The voice barked reply:
"It is a fair exchange."