g in front, holding it high up above his
head: then they went down a narrow flight of stone steps, until she and
her escort reached a heavy oak door.

A halt was ordered at this point: and the man in command of the little
party pushed the door open and walked in. Marguerite caught sight of
a room beyond, dark and gloomy-looking, as was her own prison cell.
Somewhere on the left there was obviously a window; she could not see
it but guessed that it was there because the moon struck full upon the
floor, ghost-like and spectral, well fitting in with the dream-like
state in which Marguerite felt herself to be.

In the centre of the room she could discern a table with a chair close
beside it, also a couple of tallow candles, which flickered in the
draught caused no doubt by that open window which she could not see.

All these little details impressed themselves on Marguerite's mind, as
she stood there, placidly waiting until she should once more be told to
move along. The table, the chair, that unseen window, trivial objects
though they were, assumed before her overwrought fancy an utterly
disproportionate importance. She caught herself presently counting up
the number of boards visible on the floor, and watching the smoke of the
tallow-candles rising up towards the grimy ceiling.

After a few minutes' weary waiting which seemed endless to Marguerite,
there came a short word of command from within and she was roughly
pushed forward into the room by one of the men. The cool air of a late
September's evening gently fanned her burning temples. She looked round
her and now perceived that someone was sitting at the table, the other
side of the tallow-candles--a man, with head bent over a bundle of
papers and shading his face against the light with his hand.

He rose as she approached, and the flickering flame of the candles
played weirdly upon the slight, sable-clad figure, illumining the keen,
ferret-like face, and throwing fitful gleams across the deep-set eyes
and the narrow, cruel mouth.

It was Chauvelin.

Mechanically Marguerite took the chair which the soldier drew towards
her, ordering her curtly to sit down. She seemed to have but
little power to move. Though all her faculties had suddenly become
preternaturally alert at sight of this man, whose very life now was
spent in doing her the most grievous wrong that one human being can do
to another, yet all these faculties were forcefully centred in the one
mighty eff