“Really, brother?” said Orugix. “Thank you! Perhaps he will make me executioner royal after all, eh? Well, let us part good friends! I forgive you all the scratches which you gave me; forgive me for the hempen collar which I must give you.” “The chancellor promised me a very different sort of collar,” said Musdœmon. Then the halberdiers led him, bound, into the middle of the cell; the hangman placed the fatal noose round his neck. “Are you ready, Turiaf?” “One moment! one moment!” said the prisoner, whose tenor had revived; “for mercy’s sake, brother, do not pull the rope until I tell you to do so!” “I do not need to pull it,” answered the hangman. A moment later he repeated his question. “Are you ready?” “One moment more! Alas! must I die?” “Turiaf, I have no time to waste.” So saying, Orugix signed to the halberdiers to stand away from the prisoner. “One word more, brother; do not forget to give the packet to Count d’Ahlefeld.” “Never fear,” replied Nychol. He added for the third time: “Come, are you ready?” The unfortunate man opened his lips, perhaps to plead for another brief delay, when the impatient hangman stooped and turned a brass button projecting from the floor. The plank gave way beneath the victim; the poor wretch disappeared through a square trap-door with a dull twang from the rope, which was stretched suddenly and vibrated fearfully with the dying man’s final convulsions. Nothing was seen but the rope swinging to and fro in the dark opening, through which came a cool breeze and a sound as of running water. The halberdiers themselves shrank back, horror-stricken. The hangman approached the abyss, seized the rope, which still vibrated, and swung himself into the hole, pressing both feet against his victim’s shoulders; the fatal rope stretched to its utmost with a creak, and stood still. A stifled sob rose from the trap. “All is over,” said the hangman, climbing back into the cell. “Farewell, brother!” He drew a cutlass from his belt. “Go feed the fishes in the fjord. Your body to the waves; your soul to the flames!” With these words, he cut the taut rope. The fragment still fastened to the iron ring lashed the ceiling, while the deep, dark waters splashed high as the body fell, then swept on their underground course. The hangman closed the trap as he had opened it; as he rose, he saw that the room was full of smoke. “What is all this?” he asked the halberdiers. “Where does this smoke come from?” They knew no better than he. In surprise, they opened the door; the corridors were also filled with thick and nauseating smoke. A secret outlet led them, greatly terrified, to the square courtyard, where a fearful sight met their gaze.