xcitement surged up; and with it was mingled something
of terror. It had been a formidable experience even to walk those few
hundred yards from the outer gate, and the obvious apprehensiveness of
the Prior who had spoken no audible word since they had landed, was far
from reassuring.

Here he stood now for the first time in his life within those terrible
walls; he had seen the low Traitor's Gate on his way that was for so
many the gate of death. Even now as he gripped the stone he could see
out to the left through the narrow slit a streak of open land beyond the
moat and the wall, and somewhere there he knew lay the little rising
ground, that reddened week after week in an ooze of blood and slime. And
now he was at the door of one who without doubt would die there soon for
the Faith that they both professed.

The Prior turned sharply round.

"You!" he said, "I had forgotten: you must wait here till I call you
in."

There was a sounding of an opening door above; the Prior went up and
forward, leaving him standing there; the door closed, but not before
Chris had caught a glimpse of a vaulted roof; and then the warder stood
by him again, waiting with his keys in his hand.

CHAPTER XIII

PRISONER AND PRINCE

The sun sank lower and had begun to throw long shadows before the door
opened again and the Prior beckoned. As Chris had stood there staring
out of the window at the green water of the moat and the shadowed wall
beyond, with the warder standing a few steps below, now sighing at the
delay, now humming a line or two, he had heard voices now and again from
the room above, but it had been no more than a murmur that died once
more into silence.

* * * * *

Chris was aware of a dusty room as he stepped over the threshold, bare
walls, one or two solid pieces of furniture, and of the Prior's figure
very upright in the light from the tiny window at one side; and then he
forgot everything as he looked at the man that was standing smiling by
the table.

It was a very tall slender figure, dressed in a ragged black gown
turning green with age; a little bent now, but still dignified; the face
was incredibly lean, with great brown eyes surrounded by wrinkles, and a
little white hair, ragged, too, and long, hung down under the old
flapped cap. The hand that Chris kissed seemed a bundle of reeds bound
with parchment, and above the wrist bones the arm grew thinner still
under the loose