r the purpose of forcing
the secret of the hiding place of the image. For a second Wilson felt
almost pity for the man who lay stretched out before him; he must have
suffered terribly. But he wasted little thought upon this; the girl
was still to be located. Wilson saw his eyes open. He stooped:

"Can you hear?" he asked. "Is the girl in this place?"

The thin lips moved, but there was no distinct response.

"Make an effort. Tell me, and I will get you out of here too."

The lips fluttered as though Sorez was spurred by this promise to a
supreme effort.

"The key--he has it."

"Who?"

Wilson followed the eyes and saw the brass thing lying near the
Priest.

He turned again to Sorez--

"Can you tell me anything about where she is? Is she near you?"

"I--don't know."

There was nothing for it but to open each door in order. It was of
course likely that the two had been thrust into nearby cells, but had
these been filled she might have been carried to the very end of the
passageway. He fitted the ponderous brass thing into the first lock.
It took a man's strength to turn the rusty and clumsy bolt, but it
finally yielded. Again it took a man's strength to throw open the door
upon its rusted hinges. A half savage thing staggered to the threshold
and faced him with strange jabbering. Its face and hands were cruelly
lacerated, its eyes bulging, its tattered remnants of clothes foul.
Wilson faced it a second and then stepped back to let it wander
aimlessly on down the corridors.

The cold sweat started from his brow. Supposing Jo had gone mad? If
the dark, the slime, the rats, could do this to a man, what would
they not do to a woman? He knew her; she would fight bravely and long.
There would be no whimpering, no hysterics, but even so there would be
a point where her woman's strength would fail. And all the while she
might be calling for him and wondering why he did not come. But he
_was_ coming,--he _was_! He forced the key into the next door and
turned another creaking lock. And once again as the door opened he saw
that a thing not more than half human lay within. Only this time it
crouched in a far corner laughing horribly to itself. It glared at him
like some animal. He couldn't let such a thing as that out; it would
haunt him the rest of his life. It was better that it should laugh on
so until it died. He closed the door, throwing against it all his
strength with sudden horror. God, he might go mad himself