“Thet ain’ a-goin’ t’ bother us any,” said D’ri.  “Hed thet all figgered out long ago.”

He gave me the candle and lay down, holding his ear close to the stone floor and listening.  Three times he shifted his ear from one point to another.  Then he beckoned to me.

“Jest hol’ yer ear there ‘n’ listen,” he whispered.

I gave him the candle, and with my ear to the floor I could hear the flow of water below us.  The sound went away in the distance and then out of hearing.  “After a while it came again.

“What does it mean?” I asked.

“Cipherin’ a leetle over thet air,” said he, as he made a long scratch on the floor with his flint.  Then he rubbed his chin, looking down at it.  “Hain’ jest eggzac’ly med up my mind yit,” he added.

We blew out the light and lay back, whispering.  Then presently we heard the coming of footsteps.  Two men came to the door with a candle, one being the guard we knew.

“Come, young fellow,” said the latter, as he unlocked the door and beckoned to me; “they want you upstairs.”

We both got to our feet.

“Not you,” he growled, waving D’ri back.  “Not ready fer you yet.”

He laid hold of my elbow and snapped a shackle on my wrist.  Then they led me out, closing the door with a bang that echoed in the far reaches of the dark alley, and tied a thick cloth over my eyes.

“Good luck!” D’ri cried out as they took me away.

“For both,” I answered as cheerfully as I could.

They led me through winding passages and iron doors, with that horrible clank of the prison latch, and up flights of stone till I felt as lost as one might who falls whirling in the air from a great height.  We soon came out upon a walk of gravel, where I could feel the sweet air blowing into my face.  A few minutes more and we halted, where the guard, who had hold of my elbow, rang a bell.  As the door swung open they led me in upon a soft carpet.  Through the cloth I could see a light.

“Bring him in, bring him in!” a voice commanded impatiently—­a deep, heavy voice the sound of which I have not yet forgotten.  The guard was afraid of it.  His hand trembled as he led me on.

“Take off the blindfold,” said that voice again.

As it fell away, I found myself in a large and beautiful room.  My eyes were dazzled by the light of many candles, and for a little I had to close them.  I stood before two men.  One sat facing me at a black table of carved oak—­a man of middle age, in the uniform of a British general.  Stout and handsome, with brown eyes, dark hair and mustache now half white, and nose aquiline by the least turn, he impressed me as have few men that ever crossed my path.  A young man sat lounging easily in a big chair beside him, his legs crossed, his delicate fingers teasing a thin mustache.  I noticed that his hands were slim and hairy.  He glanced up at me as soon as I could bear the light.  Then he sat looking idly at the carpet,