“But the danger must be avoided. It is a question of life and death with you and the madame. The king in his clemency is flinging fire-brands among his own enemies, with which they will consume him.” “When did you say the pardon would come?” inquired the governor. “In the morning, very early.” “We will be prepared!” The color was coming back to that broad face. The governor had arrived at a conclusion—his prisoner should never go forth to the world to fire the hearts of men against him. He rang a little house-bell that stood upon the table with a sharpness that soon brought Christopher to the room. “Bring me a light, Christopher, and lead the way to the office where our books are kept.” Christopher lighted a lamp, and led the way into a dark stone chamber, which contained several oaken desks, on which lay ponderous books chained to staples driven deep into the wall. The governor opened one of these imposing volumes, and, after turning over several of its leaves, ran his finger down a column which bore a date that ran back to a period in which Louis the Fifteenth reigned in France. “Only two entered at this period left,” he muttered; “and this delicate man one of them. How fearfully strong life is. It seems as if some men never would die.” “Who are you seeking for—the man who died this morning?” inquired Christopher, who was greatly astonished that the governor should have entered that room, or thought of examining the books. “Did a man die this morning?” demanded the governor, quickly. “What is his name? How long has he been here?” “His name,” answered Christopher, with a grim smile, “has died out long ago; but we can trace it by the number, if you will give me time. As to the how long—I cannot remember when he was not here.” Here the page stepped forward. “You have seen the man who remains, I suppose—tell me, was he fair or dark, large or small, old or young?” “He was fair, young, sir, when I first knew him, slender, too, and of most gentle bearing. As to age, men grow old here rapidly.” “But he seems old?” “Yes, a little, worn, old man.” “That will do,” said the governor, promptly. “Now let us see this person. Get the keys, Christopher, I will go with you to the cells—there is the number.”