at last.

"Sir Percy," he resumed quietly, "no doubt it affords you a certain
amount of pleasure to aim your sarcastic shafts at me. I will not
begrudge you that pleasure; in your present position, sir, your shafts
have little or no sting."

"And I shall have but few chances left to aim them at your charming
self," interposed Blakeney, who had drawn another chair close to the
table and was now sitting opposite his enemy, with the light of the lamp
falling full on his own face, as if he wished his enemy to know that he
had nothing to hide, no thought, no hope, no fear.

"Exactly," said Chauvelin dryly. "That being the case, Sir Percy, what
say you to no longer wasting the few chances which are left to you for
safety? The time is getting on. You are not, I imagine, quite as hopeful
as you were even a week ago,... you have never been over-comfortable in
this cell, why not end this unpleasant state of affairs now--once and
for all? You'll not have cause to regret it. My word on it."

Sir Percy leaned back in his chair. He yawned loudly and ostentatiously.

"I pray you, sir, forgive me," he said. "Never have I been so d--d
fatigued. I have not slept for more than a fortnight."

"Exactly, Sir Percy. A night's rest would do you a world of good."

"A night, sir?" exclaimed Blakeney with what seemed like an echo of his
former inimitable laugh. "La! I should want a week."

"I am afraid we could not arrange for that, but one night would greatly
refresh you."

"You are right, sir, you are right; but those d--d fellows in the next
room make so much noise."

"I would give strict orders that perfect quietude reigned in the
guard-room this night," said Chauvelin, murmuring softly, and there
was a gentle purr in his voice, "and that you were left undisturbed for
several hours. I would give orders that a comforting supper be served to
you at once, and that everything be done to minister to your wants."

"That sounds d--d alluring, sir. Why did you not suggest this before?"

"You were so--what shall I say--so obstinate, Sir Percy?"

"Call it pig-headed, my dear Monsieur Chambertin," retorted Blakeney
gaily, "truly you would oblige me."

"In any case you, sir, were acting in direct opposition to your own
interests."

"Therefore you came," concluded Blakeney airily, "like the good
Samaritan to take compassion on me and my troubles, and to lead me
straight away to comfort, a good supper and a downy bed."

"Admirably put, S