d so twined about his body and limbs that he was
bound by it as if with ropes. He must rest a little longer until he had
more strength to break his bonds. Then again, faces looked at him, faces
he ought to know, yet could not remember. There were low voices about
him. He was thirsty, and in his struggles to free himself from the
straw, chance guided his hand to a cup. Cool liquid was in it, water or
wine, he could not tell which, but he drank eagerly and lay still again
for a long time. Presently his strength was certainly returning, for
without any great effort he drew his hands free from the binding straw
and raised himself. A faint light was about him, showing stone walls, a
narrow room, in a corner of which he was lying. On the floor beside him
was a cup, a wine bottle, and a piece of bread. He picked up the bread
and almost mechanically bit a piece out of it. He found that he was
hungry. There was wine in the bottle and he drank. The straw no longer
bound him, and he rose slowly to his feet and stared about him. Then,
like waters suddenly breaking down a dam and flowing again into their
old channel, memory reasserted itself and his brain grew clear. He
recollected the empty house, the sudden movement on the stars, the
fight, Jeanne standing behind him in the corner. What had happened?
Where was she? Where was Seth? He knew where he was. The chair and
table, the bowl and water can, the straw bed, the stone walls and the
high grating--he was again in that buried cell of the old monastery.

"My head is heavy," he said aloud. "I must have been hurt and been
delirious. For how long, I wonder?"

He began to move slowly about the cell. It was daylight, whether morning
or afternoon he could not tell. He was not meant to die yet, or the wine
and the bread would not be there, yet why was he in this place instead
of an ordinary prison? His limbs were stiff, his head ached, it was
difficult to think clearly. He could not detach reality from dreams.
What had happened in that empty house? Where was Jeanne? He threw
himself upon the straw bed again, intending to lie there and try to
solve the problem, but he fell asleep.

He was roused suddenly. A man was bending over him, had probably touched
him. It was Raymond Latour. For a moment or two Barrington was uncertain
whether this was a dream or reality.

"So you're awake at last," said Latour.

Barrington rose slowly to his feet, and then sat down in the chair by
the table.