“Then you are here to frighten me with thoughts of the torture.” “You are a brave man, I am told; yet many a man brave enough on the field of battle has made his first acquaintance with fear in this cell. God forgive the cruelty of it!” “I am in no danger, Pierre.” “Yet not for any reasons you know of.” “Surely that sentence has a double sound.” Pierre left his work, crossed toward Gerard, and answered in a low tone. “It means what I did not purpose to tell you yet--that I am your friend at the bidding of others. We shall set you free, you and the other prisoner, the monk. My work here I must do; otherwise I might be suspected; and I meant to hold my tongue until it profited to speak.” “Who are those others?” “Some one is coming. Silence,” said Pierre hastily, as he withdrew to the other end of the cell and busied himself again with his gruesome task. Presently a knock sounded on the door, and Pierre let drop the irons he held with a clanking sound. The knock was repeated; and he opened the door. The Governor and de Proballe entered. “Why did you keep me waiting?” demanded the former angrily. “I was working yonder, my lord, and did not hear you.” “I heard the clanking of irons,” said de Proballe. “I ordered him to have all in readiness.” Pierre went back to his work, and the two stood looking down at Gerard. “You can see now what comes of defying the Governor and playing me false, M. Gerard de Cobalt,” said de Proballe, with an evil smile. “And this is only the beginning; unless you are in another mood.” “It is worthy of the Baron de Proballe to gloat over a helpless man,” answered Gerard contemptuously. “Exactly, helpless is just the right word, prisoner.” “The Duke of Rochelle has surely some other motive in coming here than to allow this carrion to insult me,” said Gerard, turning to the Governor. The Governor smiled at de Proballe’s start of anger. “I have come to you with a merciful object.” “I seek no mercy at your hands, monsieur. If you have come to do tardy justice it will suffice for me, for you will order the gaoler there to unbind my hands and set me free.” “Not so fast, prisoner, not so fast,” cried de Proballe. “I addressed you, monsieur,” said Gerard to the Governor. “What would it be but mercy that should impel me to pardon the murderer, Gerard de Cobalt?” “I am no murderer, neither am I M. de Cobalt.” “Admit that you are he and no harm shall come to you. I will keep my word and pardon you for the affair at Cambrai.” Gerard paused. The turn in things surprised him; and he could not see the motive of it. The Governor mistook his silence for hesitation. “Write the admission that you are Gerard de Cobalt and guilty of that crime, and on my oath you shall go from Morvaix a free man.” “Why?” “It is not for you to question. But I gave my word before you came and I will keep it even now.”