y own, a really original
idea. Don't be impatient: we shan't be long."

He took one of the guns which the cripple had brought to the well and
tied to the middle of the gun the end of a twelve or fifteen yards'
length of rope, fastening the other end to the cords with which the
cripple was bound, just behind his back. He next took his captive round
the body and held him over the well:

"Shut your eyes, if you feel at all giddy. And don't be frightened. I'll
be very careful. Ready?"

He put the cripple down the yawning hole and next took hold of the rope
which he had just fastened. Then, little by little, inch by inch,
cautiously, so that it should not knock against the sides of the well,
the bundle was let down at arm's length.

When it reached a depth of twelve yards or so, the gun stopped its
further descent and there it remained, slung in the dark and in the exact
centre of the narrow circumference.

Don Luis set light to a number of pieces of paper, which went whirling
down, shedding their sinister gleams upon the walls. Then, unable to
resist the craving for a last speech, he leaned over, as the scoundrel
had done, and grinned:

"I selected the place with care, so that you shouldn't catch cold. I'm
bound to look after you, you see. I promised Florence that I wouldn't
kill you; and I promised the French Government to hand you over alive as
soon as possible. Only, as I didn't know what to do with you until
to-morrow morning, I've hung you up in the air.

"It's a pretty trick, isn't it? And you ought to appreciate it, for it's
so like your own way of doing things. Just think: the gun is resting on
its two ends, with hardly an inch to spare. So, if you start wriggling,
or moving, or even breathing too hard, either the barrel or the butt
end'll give way; and down you go! As for me, I've nothing to do with it!

"If you die, it'll be a pretty little case of suicide. All you've got to
do, old chap, is to keep quiet. And the beauty of my little contrivance
is that it will give you a foretaste of the few nights that will precede
your last hour, when they cut off your head. From this moment forward you
are alone with your conscience, face to face with what you perhaps call
your soul, without anything to disturb your silent soliloquy. It's nice
and thoughtful of me, isn't it? ...

"Well, I'll leave you. And remember: not a movement, not a sigh, not a
wink, not a throb of the heart! And, above all, no larks! If you sta