“You know, then, of our meeting?” exclaimed Wyat.
“Perfectly well,” laughed Herne. “It is now eventide, and at midnight the meeting will take place in the forester's hut. If you attend it not, I will. They will be my prisoners as well as you. To preserve yourself and save them, you must join me.”
“Before I return an answer,” said Wyat, “I must know what has become of Mabel Lyndwood.”
“Mabel Lyndwood is nought to you, Sir Thomas,” rejoined Herne coldly.
“She is so much to me that I will run a risk for her which I would not run for myself,” replied Wyat. “If I promise obedience to you, will you liberate her? will you let her depart with me?”
“No,” said Herne peremptorily. “Banish all thoughts of her from your breast. You will never behold her again. I will give you time for reflection on my proposal. An hour before midnight I shall return, and if I find you in the same mind, I abandon you to your fate.”
And with these words he stepped back towards the lower end of the cell. Wyat instantly sprang after him, but before he could reach him a flash of fire caused him to recoil, and to his horror and amazement, he beheld the rock open, and yield a passage to the retreating figure.
When the sulphureous smoke, with which the little cell was filled, had in some degree cleared off, Wyat examined the sides of the rock, but could not find the slightest trace of a secret outlet, and therefore concluded that the disappearance of the demon had been effected by magic.