Gaston gave a great start.  What did this mean?  Well indeed he remembered the Sieur de Navailles, the hereditary foe of the De Brocas.  Was it, could it be possible, that he was concerned in this capture?  Had their two foes joined together to strive to win all at one blow?  He must strive to find this out.  Could it be possible that Roger really saw and heard all these things? or was it but the fantasy of delirium?  Raymond might have spoken to him of the Lord of Navailles as a foe, and in his dreams he might be mixing one thought with the other.

Suddenly Roger uttered a sharp cry and pressed his hands before his eyes.  “It is he! it is he!” he cried, with a gasping utterance.  “He has removed the mask from his face.  It is he —­ Peter Sanghurst —­ and he is smiling —­ that smile.  Oh, I know what it means!  He has cruel, evil thoughts in his mind.  O my master, my master!”

Gaston started to his feet.  Here was corroboration indeed.  Roger no more knew who the Black Visor was than he had done himself an hour back.  Yet he now saw the face of Peter Sanghurst, the very man he himself had discovered the Black Visor to be.  This indeed showed that Roger was truly looking upon some distant scene, and a strange thrill ran through Gaston as he realized this mysterious fact.

“And the other, Peter Sanghurst’s companion —­ what of him? what likeness does he bear?” asked Gaston quickly.

“He is a very giant in stature,” was the answer, “with a swarthy skin, black eyes that burn in their sockets, and a coal-black beard that falls below his waist.  He has a sear upon his left cheek, and he has lost two fingers upon the left hand.  He speaks in a voice like rolling waves, and in a language that is half English and half the Gascon tongue.”

“In very truth the Sieur de Navailles!” whispered Gaston to himself.

With every faculty on the alert, he sat beside Roger’s bed, listening to every word of his strange babble of talk.  He described how they took to horse, fresh horses being provided for the whole company, as though all had been planned beforehand, and how they galloped at headlong pace away —­ away —­ away, ever faster, ever more furiously, as though resolved to gain their destination at all cost.

The day dawned, but Roger lay still in this trance, and Gaston would not have him disturbed.  Until he could know whither his brother had been carried, it was useless to strive to seek and overtake him.  If in very truth Roger was in some mysterious fashion watching over him, he would, doubtless, be able to tell whither at length the captive was taken.  Then they would to horse and pursue.  But they must learn all they could first.

The hours passed by.  Roger still talked at intervals.  If questioned he answered readily —­ always of the same hard riding, the changes of horses, the captive carried passive in the midst of the troop.