left in the iron sconce on the wall. The single window overlooked the
courtyard, so that even had I been disposed and able to cut through the
iron that barred it, I should but succeed in falling into the hands of
the guards who abounded in that nest of infamy.

So that, for the night at least, the notion of flight must be abandoned.
What the morrow would bring forth we must wait and see. Perhaps some way
of escape would offer itself. Then my thoughts returned to Paola, and I
was tortured by surmises as to her fate, and chiefly as to how she could
have eluded the search that must have been made for her in the hut where
I had left her. Had the peasant befriended her, I wondered; and what
did she think of my protracted absence? I sat on the edge of the bed and
gave rein to my conjectures. The noises in the castle had all ceased,
and still I sat on, unconscious of time, my taper burning low.

It may have been midnight when I was startled by the sound of a stealthy
step in the corridor near my door. A heavy footfall I should have left
unheeded, but this soft tread aroused me on the instant, and I sat
listening.

It halted at my door, and was succeeded by a soft, scratching sound.
Noiselessly I rose, and with ready hands I waited, prepared, in the
instinct of self-preservation, to fall upon the intruder, however futile
the act might be. But the door did not open as I expected. Instead, the
scratching sound continued, growing slightly louder. Then it occurred to
me, at last, that whoever came might be a friend craving admittance, and
proceeding stealthily that others in the castle might not overhear him.

Swiftly I crossed to the door, and opened. On the threshold a dark
figure straightened itself from a stooping posture, and the light of the
taper behind me fell on a face of a pallor that seemed to glisten in its
intensity. It was the face of Mariani, the seneschal of the Castle of
Cessna.

One glance we exchanged, and intuitively I seemed to apprehend the
motive of this midnight visit. He came either to bring me aid or to seek
mine, with vengeance for his guerdon. I stood aside, and silently he
entered my room and closed the door.

"Quench your taper," he bade me in a husky whisper.

Without hesitation I obeyed him, a strange excitement thrilling me. For
a second we stood in the dark, then another light gleamed as he plucked
away the cloak that masked a lanthorn which he had brought with him. He
set the lanthorn on th