e gloomiest part of the background, hinted rather than seen, he
could make out the vast dark figure dominating the iron altar.

Then Laurence remembered that the chamber of the marshal lay on the
other side--the room with the immense fireplace which he had once
entered and from which he had barely escaped with his life.

Little by little Laurence raised himself upon the grooved slab until,
standing erect, he could see some small part of the whitewashed,
red-floored chamber he remembered so well--only a strip, however,
extending from the door through which he looked to the great fireplace
whereon the heaped wood had already been kindled.

At first all was confused. Laurence saw Henriet and Poitou going
hastily here and there, as servitors do who prepare for a great
function. Then came a pause, heavy with doom. On the back of this he
heard or seemed to hear the frightened pleading of a child, the short,
sharp commands of a soldier's voice, a sound as of a blow stricken,
and then again a whimpering hush. Laurence leaned against the wall
with his face in his hands. He dared not look within. Then he lifted
his head, and lo! in the gloom it seemed as if the huge image had
turned towards him, and in a pleased, confidential way were nodding
approval of his presence.

He heard the voice of the Marshal de Retz again--this time kindly, and
even affectionate. Some one was not to be frightened. Some one was to
take a draught from the goblet and fear nothing. They would not hurt
him. They had but played with him.

Again Henriet and Poitou passed and repassed, and once Gilles de Sille
flashed across the interspace handing a broad-edged gleaming knife
swiftly and surreptitiously to some one unseen.

Then came a short, sharp cry of agony, a gurgling moan, and black,
blank, unutterable horror shut down on Laurence's spirit.

He sank down on his face behind the door and covered his eyes and ears
with his hands. So he lay for a space without motion, almost without
sense, upon the naked grooves of the marble slab. When he came to
himself, a dusky light was diffused through the chapel. As he looked
he saw La Meffraye come to the door and set her face within, like some
bird of night, hideous and foul. Then she returned and Gilles de Sille
and Clerk Henriet came into the chapel bearing between them a great
golden cup, filled (as it seemed by the care with which they carried
it) to the very brim with some precious liquid.

To them, all