“You’ll stay there and die—now that you’re no longer wanted!”
Next second Roddy, lying where he had been flung, heard the door being bolted and barred.
He was again alone!
He raised himself slowly and painfully from the slimy stones and gazed around. The walls were green and damp and the place smelt muddy.
Suddenly his eager ears caught the faint ripple of water. There was a river flowing outside!
Again he listened. No longer could he hear Claribut’s footsteps, but only the low ripple as the water ran past beneath the window. He judged that the pavement upon which he stood was on a level with the river.
But where was he? What was the nature of the place he was in—those strong stone walls that had probably stood there for centuries. In any case the intention of his enemies was that it should be his tomb!
It was still morning—early morning he judged it to be. But suddenly as he stood there he saw that the clouds had darkened, and he heard the rain falling slowly upon the surface of the river outside.
Gradually the stones upon which he stood became wetter. Water was oozing up from between the crevices everywhere.
The river was rising. The ghastly truth all at once fell upon him, benumbing his senses. If the rain continued to fall then the river would rise, and he would be drowned, as Claribut had prophesied—drowned like a rat in a hole!