I do not for a moment say I was right in every detail, but events showed that I was not far wrong; and it is a wonder to me that the learned men of our day have not dealt with this question of the mind, though, to be sure, it savours no little of those secrets which the Almighty in His wisdom has concealed from us, an inquiry into which is perhaps a sin—perhaps in some future time these things may be disclosed to us! Whether I am right or wrong, I know not. I have, however, set down faithfully what passed through my mind in those hours of agony.
Was I never to see the light again? Never to hear another human voice? Was I to come to my death in a long-drawn-out agony? Dear God, then, in mercy, strike me dead! So I prayed in my utter desolation; but death did not come, though its mantle of darkness was around me.
Hour after hour passed. I shifted my position, and, strange to say, slept. How long I slept I know not; but I woke stinging with pain, and found this was due to my being bound as I was, and in a little the agony became almost insupportable; and I was on the verge of going into a delirium, only righting my failing senses by a mighty effort of will.
I had lost all count of the time, but guessed it was advanced in the day by this; and my eyes had become so accustomed to the darkness that I could manage to see the faint outlines of the cell in which I was imprisoned. I tried to make out its extent with an idle and useless curiosity, and then, giving it up and utterly hopeless, leaned my head on my upraised knees, and sat thus waiting for the end.
I longed for death to come now—it would be a happy release from my pain.
Suddenly there came a grating noise as the bolts outside were moved. Then the door of the cell swung open with a groaning, and there was a blinding flash of light that, for the time being, deprived me of the powers of sight, though, with a natural instinct, I shut my eyes to the flash as it came.
Then I heard de Gomeron's voice saying, 'Remove the gag—I have something to ask Monsieur.'
As I felt two cold, hard hands fumbling with the knots of the gag, I managed to open my eyes, though the light still pained me, and saw the tall figure of the free-lance, his drawn sword in his hand, standing in the open doorway, and kneeling beside me was Babette. The hag caught the loathing in my glance, and laughed to herself as she wrenched at the knots, and de Gomeron, who was evidently in no mood to delay, hurried her efforts with a sharp 'Quick!'
'It is done,' she answered, and rose to her feet, swinging the silken bands of the gag she held in her hand.
'Then have the goodness to step back whilst Monsieur d'Auriac and I discuss the position.'