She gave a little start of interest at his speech, looking at him steadfastly with a half-sigh of regret. “True; I do not blame you; no woman could. Only I warn you that any hopes you may have of rescue are worse than vain. You would know that if you knew Count Irromar.”
“I am sorry to hear it,” Ludovic replied simply.
“Yes. What are two men, however brave, however careless of their lives, against Irromar’s gang of assassins, against his secret chambers, his locks and bars?”
“I have in me the bold hope,” Ludovic said shrewdly, “that you, madam, are willing to help us, since we seek nothing wrong.”
She laughed curiously. “You find me a likely traitor?”
Ludovic made a protesting gesture. “I thought not so. Treachery is no name for help in this cause.”
“And yet,” she rejoined, speaking through her clenched teeth, “it is, above all others, the right word for my help. But if I am a traitor, it is that I have been driven to it. And a traitor’s doom would be, perhaps, the most grateful form of the death I have now hourly to expect.” She was speaking more to herself than to them. “Yes; I will help you,” she continued, suddenly rousing herself. “It was for that I sought you here.” She laughed; it was always the same bitter, repellent laugh, a laugh that transformed her beauty into ugliness, drawing, as it were, a film of evil over the comely flesh. “I watched for you,” she continued, “from my little window in the tower yonder. I was pretty certain you would come. You are not the first fools, or the last, to dash out your brains against those rocky walls. I saw you. I have a quick eye—to-day.” There was a curious significance in the last word. “I will help you. At least, I will let you into the castle and show you where Karl Irromar keeps his fair prisoners. Do not blame me if you find your deaths in place of your ladies.”
Ompertz, who had all this time stood silent, although keenly observant, now struck in.
“Under pardon, gracious lady, if I may be permitted a word, I would say that your offer is as handsome as it is unexpected. But before we are free to bless our good genius, we should have some surety that the Count has not chosen an alluring bait to attract us into his stone trap.”
The lady flushed. “You may take or reject my offer,” she returned haughtily. “Your doubts are perhaps natural enough, still I cannot undertake to remove them.” She half turned away. Ludovic, with a monitory gesture to his companion, took a step after her.