good God! do my eyes actually look upon the day once more--the
sweet, sweet, blessed day? Surely it is but a dream; yet no! it must
truly be light streaming down from above.

I staggered to my feet, trembling so that I was compelled to clutch the
wall for support. Swinging and swaying down toward me through the dim
light, now in the radiance, anon in the shadow, twisting and turning
like a great snake, a grass rope steadily dropped ring by ring until
its loosened end coiled on the stone floor. I saw it, never believing
the testimony of my own eyes, until my trembling hand had actually
closed upon it. Then, with the touch in my fingers, the hot tears
gushed from my blinded eyes, the tension on my brain gave way, and I
was Geoffrey Benteen once more. A cautious whisper pierced the silence.

"If you remain alive, have you strength to mount the rope quickly?"

So parched and swollen were my lips I could not answer, yet managed to
take stronger grasp upon the cord, and, finding it firmly held above,
made earnest effort to climb. 'Twas a desperate undertaking for one
who had passed through the strain which had befallen me; but now, the
trembling having somewhat passed, I found myself not entirely devoid of
strength, while an intense desire to escape from that hell made me
willing to venture. I was dimly conscious of a face gazing intently
down through the small aperture, yet, with the swaying of that loosened
rope, the slipperiness of its grassy strands between my fingers, I
found little opportunity for glancing upward while slowly winning
toilsome way toward the light. It was as hard a struggle for life as I
ever made, my heart almost ceasing to hope, when I finally felt a hand
close firmly upon the collar of my jacket. With that help, I struggled
on, until, panting and exhausted, I sank upon the skin-carpeted floor
of the apartment from whence I had been hurled into that living tomb.

Half turning as I fell, I gazed into the face of my rescuer,
endeavoring to smile as my glad eyes met those of Eloise de Noyan.

"Oh, hush!" she sobbed. "Do not speak of what you have suffered, for I
read it all in your eyes. Oh, my poor, poor boy! I thank the merciful
Christ you are still alive. Yet I know not how long that demon in form
of woman may be absent; besides, her savage guards are everywhere. The
slightest sound might bring one to the door, and it will be better that
she believe you her victim, buried forever in th