“Better,” replied Melton. “I can scarcely feel it at all.”
“Good,” said Canaris. “Now do just as I tell you. Lie down on the straw; pretend that you are much worse; moan loudly from time to time, and when I come tonight I shall have something to impart to you.”
With this strange admonition, Canaris hastily left the dungeon and the guard rebolted the door.
“Is the fellow crazy?” said Melton. “What can he mean to do?”
“Crazy?” rejoined Guy. “No; I have a strange faith in that man, Melton. Do just as he tells you and see what turns up tonight.”
With much grumbling Melton assumed the part of a very sick man. He rather overdid the thing, in fact, for twice the guard opened the door and looked in. About noon food was brought, and from that time no one came near them.
The minutes dragged along like hours. They tried to forget the awful fate that stared them in the face, but in spite of the Greek’s encouraging words the future looked very black.
At last the feeble light in their dungeon began to fade away, and soon they were in darkness.
“The fellow will never come back,” said Melton bitterly. “It’s all up with us, Chutney, so don’t try to raise any more false hopes.”
But Guy refused to give up, and his faith was rewarded. Quick footsteps approached the dungeon, the bolts rattled, and Canaris entered with a rude lamp and a leather case, which he placed carefully on the floor.