Stern's wrists and arms, moreover, still pained considerably, for they had been very cruelly bruised with the ropes, which the barbarians had drawn tight with a force that bespoke both skill and deftness. His need of some occupation forced him to assure himself, a dozen times over, that both revolvers were completely filled. Fortunately, the captors had not known enough to rob either Beatrice or him of the cartridge-belts they wore. How long a time passed? One hour, two, three? They could not tell. But, overcome by the vitiated air and the great heat, Beatrice slept at last, her head in the man's lap. He, utterly spent, leaned his back against the wall of black and polished stone, nodding with weariness and great exhaustion. He, too, must have dropped off into a troubled sleep, for he did not hear the unbolting of the massive iron cell-door. But all at once, with a quick start, he recovered consciousness. He found himself broad awake, with the girl clutching at his arm and pointing. With dazzled eyes he stared--stared at a strange figure standing framed in a rectangle of blue and foggy light. Even as he shouted: "Hold on, there! Get back out o' that, you!" and jerked his ugly pistol at the old man's breast--for very aged this man seemed, bent and feeble and trembling as he leaned upon an iron staff--a voice spoke dully through the half-gloom, saying: "Peace, friends! Peace be unto you!" Stern started up in wild amaze. From his nerveless fingers the pistol dropped. And, as it clattered on the floor, he cried: "English? You speak _English?_ Who _are_ you? English! English! Oh, my God!" CHAPTER XXVII DOOMED! The aged man stood for a moment as though tranced at sound of the engineer's voice. Then, tapping feebly with his staff, he advanced a pace or two into the dungeon. And Stern and Beatrice--who now had sprung up, too, and was likewise staring at this singular apparition--heard once again the words: "Peace, friends! Peace!" Stern snatched up the revolver and leveled it. "Stop there!" he shouted. "Another step and I--I--" The old man hesitated, one hand holding the staff, the other groping out vacantly in front of him, as though to touch the prisoners. Behind him, the dull blue light cast its vague glow. Stern, seeing his bald and shaking head, lean, corded hand, and trembling body wrapped in its mantle of coarse brown stuff, could not finish the threat. Instead, his pistol-hand dropped. He stood there for a moment as though paralyzed with utter astonishment. Outside, the chant had ceased. Through the doorway no living beings were visible--nothing but a thin and tenuous vapor, radiant in the gas-flare which droned its never-ending roar. "In the name of Heaven, who--what--_are_ you?" cried the engineer, at length. "A man who speaks English, _here? Here?_" The aged one nodded slowly, and once again groped out toward Stern.