Peter drew the dagger from its sheath, and in a few seconds had slit off some strips of hide from the rough sheepskin rugs. With these Edgar bound Duprez's arms securely behind his back. The other man was then trussed in similar fashion, though, so far, he had shown no sign of returning consciousness.
"Peter," continued Edgar with breathless energy as soon as their jailers were secure, "place the torch upright against the wall and bend all thine energies to ridding thyself and me of our shackles. We have two swords and a dagger. That should be sufficient for an armourer's assistant. Get quickly to work, or it will be too late. Be silent if thou canst."
He then turned to Duprez.
"Dost wish to live, scoundrel?" he said sternly. "Thou knowest as certainly as we do that our lives are forfeit if taken--dost then think we are likely to spare thee? What dost bid for thy life?"
"What want ye?" gasped Duprez, whose face was livid and full of fear as the wild shackled figure stooped over him, grasping a dagger snatched from the belt of the other man.
"A few words--no more. But they may spell life to thee."
"Ask."
"Where is Sir John Chartris?"
"The other prisoner--the man who came a week agone?"
"Yes, a man of knightly bearing, aged some forty years."