As he spoke these words, Sanghurst, his eyes immovably fixed upon the changing face of the beautiful girl, drew from his breast a small packet and placed it within her trembling hands.

He knew he was playing a risky game, and that one false move might lose him his one chance.  It was all the veriest guesswork; but he believed he had guessed aright.  Whilst Raymond had been stretched upon the rack, swooning from extremity of pain, Sanghurst’s eyes, fixed in gloating satisfaction upon the helpless victim, had been caught by the sight of this token about his neck, secured by a strong silver cord.  To possess himself of the charm, or whatever it might be, had been but the work of a moment.  He had felt convinced that it was a lover’s token, and had been given to Raymond by Joan, and if so it might be turned to good account, even if other means failed to bend the stubborn will of the youth who looked so frail and fragile.

Raymond had escaped from his hands by a species of magic, as it had seemed to the cruel captors, when he had tasted but a tithe of what they had in store for him.  Baffled and enraged as Sanghurst was, he had still the precious token in his possession.  If it had been given by Joan, she would recognize it at once, and coupled with the supposed dying message of her lover, surely it would not be without effect.

Eagerly then were his eyes fixed upon her face as she undid the packet, and a gleam of triumph came into them as he saw a flash of recognition when the little heart was disclosed to view.

Truly indeed did Joan’s heart sink within her, and every drop of blood ebbed from her cheek; for had not Raymond said that he would never part from her gift whilst he had life? and how could Peter Sanghurst have become possessed of it unless his tale were true?  He might be capable of robbing a dead body, but how would he have known that the token was given by her?

A mist seemed to float before the girl’s eyes.  At that moment she was unable to think or to reason.  The one thought there was room for in her mind was that Raymond was dead.  If he were lost to her for ever, it was little matter what became of herself.

Sanghurst’s keen eyes, fixed upon her with an evil gleam, saw that the charm was working.  It had worked even beyond his hopes.  He was so well satisfied with the result of this day’s work, that he would not even press his suit upon her farther then.  Let her have time to digest her lover’s dying words.  When she had done so, he would come to her again.

“Sweet lady, I grieve that thou shouldst suffer though any words I have been forced to speak; but it was a promise given to him who is gone to deliver the message and the token.  Lady, I take my leave of thee.  I will not intrude upon thy sacred sorrow.  I, too, sorrow little less for him who is gone.  He was one of the brightest ornaments of these days of chivalry and renown.”

He caught her hand for a moment and pressed it to his lips, she scarce seeming to know what he did or what he said; and then he turned away and left her alone with her thoughts, a strangely malicious expression crossing his face as he knew himself hidden from her eyes.