"You and your friend Raymond thought to trap us!" said the Baron. "But, you see, he who laughs last laughs best. Adieu, and I wish you a pleasant trip, my young friend, into the next world," and both went out, closing the door after them.
All was silence. I sat there helpless, pinioned, staring at the burning candle and awaiting the most awful death that can await a man.
Ah, those moments! How can I ever adequately describe them? Suffice it to say that my hair was dark on that morning, but in those terrible moments of mental agony, of fear and horror, it became streaked with grey.
Lower and still lower burned the flame, steadily, imperceptibly, yet, alas! too sure. Each second brought me nearer the grave.
I was face to face with death.
Frantically and fiercely I fought to wrench myself free—fought until a great exhaustion fell upon me.
Then, as the candle had burned until the flame was actually touching that thin string which held me between life and death, I fainted.
A blinding flash, a terrific explosion that deafened me, and a feeling of sudden numbness.
I found myself lying on the path outside with two men at my side.
One was a dark-bearded, thick-set, but gentlemanly-looking man—the other was Ray Raymond.