“We are going into the worst part of the Tower,” observed Xit, who began to feel his terrors revive. “I have been here once before. I recollect it leads to the Torture Chamber, the Little-Ease, and the Pit. I hope you are not taking me to one of those horrible places?”
“Poh! poh!” rejoined Wolfytt, gruffly. “You are going to Master Nightgall’s bower.”
“His bower!” exclaimed Xit, surprised by the term—“what! where he keeps Cicely?”
At the mention of this name, Nightgall, who had hitherto maintained a profound silence, uttered an exclamation of anger, and regarded the dwarf with a withering look.
“I can keep a secret if need be,” continued Xit, in a deprecatory tone, alarmed at his own indiscretion. “Neither Cuthbert Cholmondeley, nor Dame Potentia, nor any one else, shall hear of her from me, if you desire it, good Master Nightgall.”
“Peace!” thundered the jailor.
“You will get an extra turn of the rack for your folly, you crack-brained jackanapes,” laughed Wolfytt.
Luckily the remark did not reach Xit’s ears. He was too much frightened by Nightgall’s savage look to attend to anything else.
They had now reached a third door, which Nightgall unlocked and fastened as soon as the others had passed through it. The passage they entered was even darker and damper than the one they had quitted. It contained a number of cells, some of which, as was evident from the groans that issued from them, were tenanted.
“Is Alexia here?” inquired Xit, whose blood froze in his veins as he listened to the dreadful sounds.