The minutes, the quarters, the half-hours flew by, and the fatal hour arrived at last.
A distant sound struck on their ears; it grew nearer, it increased, and the door swinging open gave admittance to Calavar and his assistants, who advanced into the cell with torches in their hands. They were armed with swords, and two of them bore the block, covered with a black cloth, on which lay an axe.
"THE GAME BECAME MORE AND MORE COMPLICATED."
The torches were placed in the receptacle prepared for them, whilst one of the men scattered cedar sawdust on the floor. All this was the work of a moment, while the executioner stood waiting for the prisoner.
As Calavar entered, Ruy Lopez started to his feet, in a tremor of alarm, but the Duke did not move. His eyes were fixed upon the chess-board. It was his turn to play. Calavar, seeing his abstracted gaze, advanced to the Duke's side and placed his hand upon his shoulder.
"Come," he said.
The prisoner shuddered as if he had trodden upon a serpent.
"I must finish this game," he said, imperiously.
"It is impossible," Calavar replied.