ry bitter
of spirit, but chiefly for those men who had come with him, and because
he had failed before the Dark Master's hand.

It was cold, bitterly cold, and thin snow lay around him, so that he
knew that he was in some tower or prison that faced to the east. It was
from that direction that the snow had driven, as he had sore cause to
know, and he wondered if the Dark Master had had any hand in that
driving. But this he was not to know for many days.

It was the cold which had awakened him from his unconsciousness, he
guessed. By dint of shifting his position somewhat, he managed to get
his back against a wall, and so got his hands to his head. In such
fashion he made out that his hair was matted and frozen with blood, and
his neck also, where a bullet had plowed through the muscles on the
right side. His head-wound was no more than a jagged tear which had
split half his scalp, but had not hurt the bone, as he found after some
feeling. Then he dropped his hands again, for the chains that bound him
to the wall were very heavy. It must be night, for light would come
where snow had come, and there was no light.

Now, having found that he was not like to die, at least from his wounds,
he set about stretching to lie down again, and found some straw on the
floor. He drew it up with his feet and gathered it about him; it was
dank and smelled vilely, but at the least it gave his frozen body some
warmth, so that he fell asleep after a time.

When he wakened again, it was to find men around him and a narrow strip
of cold sunlight coming through a high slit in the wall of his prison.
From the sound of breakers that seemed to roar from below him, he
conjectured that he was in a sea-facing tower of the castle, in which he
was right.

The men, who were led by Red Murrough, gave him bread and meat and
wine, but they offered no word and would answer no questions. So he ate
and drank, and felt life and strength creeping back into his bones. He
concluded that it must be the day after his arrival.

Now Red Murrough beckoned to the hoary old seneschal, whose red-rimmed
eyes glittered evilly. The old man shook his keys and stooped over
Brian, unlocking the hasp which bound him to the wall-ring. The
oppressive silence of these men struck a chill through Brian, but he
came to his feet readily enough as Murrough jerked his shoulder.

He followed out into a corridor, and the men closed around him, going
with him down-stairs and along