"Yes, yes; but it must be done without a dagger. And before we start we must have some plan by which to escape when our shackles are off. ’Twould be useless to remove them only to be discovered by Duprez on his next visit. They would be replaced by a stronger pair, and our plight would be hopeless indeed. We must have a plan first. What doth the door offer? Let us examine it carefully." Both moved eagerly to the door. As they did so their chains clanked hideously, making a sound that seemed to strike into their hearts with dread, bringing irresistibly home to them their desperate position. "Of a truth, it would be worth much to be rid of these shameful bonds alone," cried Edgar passionately. "Nevertheless, we must not think of it until we have our plans ready formed to our hands, Peter. Ha! ’Tis as I feared. This door belongeth not to the age when these walls were built. It is of far later make, and seems prodigiously strong--shake it and feel its weight, Peter." Peter did so, and then stood back and gave a despondent shake of the head. "Had they left us a piece of metal, however small, Master Edgar, we might in time have scraped a hole through the door around the lock and so opened it. But they have left nothing with me. Art sure they have left thee nothing?" "They have left me nothing, Peter. They have taken my purse and all it contains, so that not even a coin remains for such a task. But stay--they have not touched my shirt of mail. Perchance we might do something with a few of its links, small as they are." "Let us try--but hush, Master Edgar, someone approaches. I hear footsteps in the passage outside." Both held their peace, and then, at a gesture from Edgar, sat down again on the stones in an attitude of dejection. A key grated in the lock of the door, and with much creaking and groaning the door was opened. Two men were outside--Duprez and another man, a stranger to Edgar. One bore an armful of rugs and the other some rough cakes and a pitcher, probably containing water. "Thy bedding," grunted Duprez surlily. "Here, Guilbert, fling it in yon corner. Thou art lucky," he went on, turning to Edgar, "to get as much." "Lucky indeed," replied Edgar in a tone of weary indifference; "but can thine other prisoner spare the rugs?" "Aye, they belong not--But what know ye--why talk ye of another prisoner?" cried Duprez savagely, as he began to suspect that he had told too much. "Oh, nothing! Surely one might guess ye had other prisoners in so large a castle. Is this our food, friend Duprez? They do not intend to starve us at any rate. Doubtless we may expect a meal twice or thrice in the day?" "Ye may expect me when ye see me," cried the man harshly. "Ye would like me to tell ye all, I make no doubt. Get ye to your food, and cease to bandy words with me, or it may chance you will lose all appetite."