I bent forward again; they had resumed their conversation. "And now," said Herrick, "I will tell the price of my silence. Answer the question that I ask, and the grave shall be no more silent than I; refuse, and I will go to DeNortier immediately upon his arrival, and tell him what thou hast said to me. Thou hast thy choice," and he looked carelessly at the other, as though he would not give a farthing which course he pursued. Father Francis was moistening his white lips with his tongue. "Thou knowest I must answer," he said sullenly. "Why trifle with me? What is thy question?" "Who is it behind this plot to keep Sir Thomas Winchester here?" Herrick asked quietly, and leaning back, he gazed up at the wall of the cave above him. His companion was trembling with fear. "'Tis as much as my life is worth to tell thee!" he cried excitedly. "I durst not! Anything but this--anything! I implore thee to ask me some other question. Herrick, I have been thy friend; have stood by thee through thick and thin, when others would have forsaken and left thee to thy fate. For God's sake! ask not this of me. Dost thou remember Gromas? Did I not save thy life there, when the very breath of thy body hung by but a thread, and I could have slain thee with a word? For the sake of this spare me!" And with clasped hands he looked at the other. "It is as much as thy life is worth not to tell me," boldly answered the adventurer. "Rememberest thou the tender mercies of our captain--the Indian burned alive at the stake; the mutineer crucified; the slave branded with red-hot irons; the----?" "Hush!" cried the poor priest, his eyes almost starting from their sockets. "Thou makest my very blood run cold. Lean forward, and I will whisper it in thy ear--the very walls have ears in this place." Herrick leaned forward, his eyes sparkling. The priest bent over to whisper to him. In my eagerness to hear, I leaned forward further--further over the edge of the ledge, and Dame Fortune, with a twist of her wheel, turned the propitious fates aside. For even as I bent forward, my ears strained to catch the slightest whisper, the soft earth under me gave way, and in a perfect avalanche of dirt, shrubbery, and rocks, I rolled down into the camp of my enemies. With a yell--shrill, loud, and piercing, which rang through the cave like the blast of a trumpet, the priest sprang up. With one spring like a wild goat, he was upon the ledge from which only one short moment ago I had fallen. I heard him tear through the bushes, and run down the hill outside, as though the furies were after him. The sound died away in the distance--he was gone.