"Tear me some strips from yon rugs," cried Edgar in a minute or two, when Duprez, half-choked and fully mastered, had begun to relax his struggles. "Take this dagger--quick!" Peter drew the dagger from its sheath, and in a few seconds had slit off some strips of hide from the rough sheepskin rugs. With these Edgar bound Duprez’s arms securely behind his back. The other man was then trussed in similar fashion, though, so far, he had shown no sign of returning consciousness. "Peter," continued Edgar with breathless energy as soon as their jailers were secure, "place the torch upright against the wall and bend all thine energies to ridding thyself and me of our shackles. We have two swords and a dagger. That should be sufficient for an armourer’s assistant. Get quickly to work, or it will be too late. Be silent if thou canst." He then turned to Duprez. "Dost wish to live, scoundrel?" he said sternly. "Thou knowest as certainly as we do that our lives are forfeit if taken--dost then think we are likely to spare thee? What dost bid for thy life?" "What want ye?" gasped Duprez, whose face was livid and full of fear as the wild shackled figure stooped over him, grasping a dagger snatched from the belt of the other man. "A few words--no more. But they may spell life to thee." "Ask." "Where is Sir John Chartris?" "The other prisoner--the man who came a week agone?" "Yes, a man of knightly bearing, aged some forty years." "He is in this donjon, in a room near Sir Eustace. He was in one of these cells but a few hours since." "What! Was his, then, the voice we heard? You have tortured him, inhuman monsters!" and Edgar, in his anger, thrust the point of the dagger so close to Duprez’s neck that the man winced with fear. "Nay, nay, good sir, we have tortured him not. He contracted a fever two days after he came, and is wild with delirium. Sir Eustace feared to lose him if he kept him in these dungeons, and had him taken to a room halfway up the keep." "Ah! Tell me how I may reach this room." Sullenly the man obeyed. "These keys at thy belt. Which is the key of Sir John’s room?" Again the man gave the information desired, and Edgar, satisfied that he had obtained all that he required, stripped him of his cloak and then gagged him effectively with pieces torn from the rugs. In his elation he could have shouted for joy. Sir John was ill, but if all went well before another hour had gone he would at least be free. By this time Peter had rid himself of one of his shackles and the other was nearly shorn through. The shackles, though thick and heavy, were soft and rusty, and were an easy problem to an armourer’s assistant in possession of well-tempered swords and a dagger. In a few more minutes he was free to attack Edgar’s bonds in their turn. Soon he also could stretch his limbs in freedom.