While the meal was in progress the new Lord of Malevereux stood leaning against the wall, the glare of a torch held by one of the men-at-arms throwing his features into strong relief. Was it fancy, thought Geoffrey, that he saw a sinister gleam in the eyes of Sir Denis?
"Are ye ready, young sirs?" asked the baron when the lads had finished their repast. "Then follow me; tread boldly, for there is none to hinder ye."
Traversing three long passages, interrupted by short flights of steps, the Lord of Malevereux stopped before a low archway where strong bars took the place of a solid door. Outside the youths could see the dim outline of a stone wall, feebly lighted by the torch of the attendant man-at-arms, while the twinkling stars beyond seemed to beckon the captives to the freedom that had so long been denied them.
"Here is a cloak apiece," said Sir Denis, as a soldier handed the garments to the lads. "These will not come amiss, I take it, for 'tis cold without. Now, Hubin, unlock the portal, I pray thee."
The man-at-arms, fumbling at a bunch of keys at his waist, at length produced the required article, and, thrusting it into the lock, contrived with much exertion to open the rusty wards.
"'Tis but rarely that men pass this way," explained Sir Denis. "But see, yonder lies thy path. Adieu, fair sirs."
As the twain passed under the archway the grille was closed with a ponderous clang, but with feelings of intense thankfulness the lads realized that they were on the right side of the detaining bolts and bars.
With light steps they traversed the groined passage. Another ten paces and they would be under the canopy of Heaven.
"Hold, Oswald!" exclaimed Geoffrey, grasping his companion by the arm, at the same moment dragging him backwards. "By St. Paul! what have we here?"
Geoffrey's warning came only just in time. Another step would have precipitated them into a gloomy and unfathomable pitfall.