The heat, too, was stifling, cast out again towards evening from
the roofs and walls that had drunk it in all day from the burning skies.
As they stood before the door at last and waited, after beating the
great iron knocker on the iron plate, a kind of despair came down on
Marjorie. They had advanced just so far in two months as to be allowed
to speak with the prisoner; and, from her talkings with Mr. Biddell, had
understood how little that was. Indeed, he had hinted to her plainly
enough that even in this it might be that they were no more than pawns
in the enemy's hand; and that, under a show of mercy, it was often
allowed for a prisoner's friends to have free access to him in order to
shake his resolution. If there was any cause for congratulation then, it
lay solely in the thought that other means had so far failed. One thing
at least they knew, for their comfort, that there had been no talk of
torture....
It was a full couple of minutes before the door opened to show them a
thin, brown-faced man, with his sleeves rolled up, dressed over his
shirt and hose in a kind of leathern apron. He nodded as he saw the
ladies, with an air of respect, however, and stood aside to let them
come in. Then, with the same civility, he asked for the order, and read
it, holding it up to the light that came through the little barred
window over the door.
It was an unspeakably dreary little entrance passage in which they
stood, wainscoted solidly from floor to ceiling with wood that looked
damp and black from age; the ceiling itself was indistinguishable in the
twilight; the floor seemed composed of packed earth, three or four doors
showed in the woodwork; that opposite to the one by which they had
entered stood slightly ajar, and a smoky light shone from beyond it.
Pages:
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262