I bowed my head.

“What brother vouches for this stranger?” asked the same stern voice.

Then I heard Maximilian.  He spoke as if he was standing near my side.  He said: 

“I do.  If I had not been willing to vouch for him with my life, I should not have asked to bring him—­not a member of our Brotherhood—­into this presence.  He saved my life; he is a noble, just and honorable man—­one who loves his kind, and would bless and help them if he could.  He has a story to tell which concerns us all.”

“Enough,” said the voice.  “Were you present in the council-chamber of the Prince of Cabano last night?  If so, tell us what you saw and heard?”

Just then there was a slight noise, as if some one was moving quietly toward the door behind me, by which I had just entered.  Then came another voice, which I had not before heard—­a thin, shrill, strident, imperious voice—­a voice that it seemed to me I should recognize again among a million.  It cried out: 

“Back to your seat!  Richard, tell the guards to permit no one to leave this chamber until the end of our meeting.”

There was a shuffling of feet, and whispering, and then again profound silence.

“Proceed,” said the stern voice that had first spoken.

Concealing all reference to Estella, and omitting to name Rudolph, whom I referred to simply as one of their Brotherhood known to Maximilian, I told, in the midst of a grave-like silence, how I had been hidden in the room next to the council-chamber; and then I went on to give a concise history of what I had witnessed and heard.

“Uncover his eyes!” exclaimed the stern voice.

Maximilian untied the handkerchief.  For a moment or two I was blinded by the sudden glare of light.  Then, as my eyes recovered their function, I could see that I stood, as I had supposed, in the middle of a large vault or cellar.  Around the room, on rude benches, sat perhaps one hundred men.  At the end, on a sort of dais, or raised platform, was a man of gigantic stature, masked and shrouded.  Below him, upon a smaller elevation, sat another, whose head, I noticed even then, was crooked to one side.  Still below him, on a level with the floor, at a table, were two men who seemed to be secretaries.  Every man present wore a black mask and a long cloak of dark material.  Near me stood one similarly shrouded, who, I thought, from the size and figure, must be Maximilian.

It was a solemn, silent, gloomy assemblage, and the sight of it thrilled through my very flesh and bones.  I was not frightened, but appalled, as I saw all those eyes, out of those expressionless dark faces, fixed upon me.  I felt as if they were phantoms, or dead men, in whom only the eyes lived.

The large man stood up.  He was indeed a giant.  He seemed to uncoil himself from his throne as he rose.

“Unmask,” he said.

There was a rustle, and the next moment the masks were gone and the cloaks had fallen down.