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 start larking, you’re in the soup.  Meditate:  that’s the best thing you can do.  Meditate and wait.  Good-bye, for the present!”

And Don Luis, satisfied with his homily, went off, muttering: 

“That’s all right.  I won’t go so far as Eugene Sue, who says that great criminals should have their eyes put out.  But, all the same, a little corporal punishment, nicely seasoned with fear, is right and proper and good for the health and morals.”

Don Luis walked away and, taking the brick path round the ruins, turned down a little road, which ran along the outer wall to a clump of fir trees, where he had brought Florence for shelter.

She was waiting for him, still aching from the horrible suffering which she had endured, but already in full possession of her pluck, mistress of herself, and apparently rid of all anxiety as to the issue of the fight between Don Luis and the cripple.

“It’s finished,” he said, simply.  “To-morrow I will hand him over to the police.”