Neither spoke, but the man who had admitted us poured out some cognac and handed it to me, afterwards filling the other glasses. The men lifted them to me and tossed off the contents, an example which I followed. "We are safe here," observed Giovanni, turning to me; "safe from the storm, the frontier guards, from everything." "I engaged you to conduct me to Lanslebourg, not to bring me here," I said severely. He smiled. "This cave has been the grave of many men," he replied, as he calmly selected a cigar from the box upon the table. "It may be yours." "What do you mean?" I cried, thoroughly alarmed. "Surely you understand," exclaimed the man who admitted us. "We are outlaws, brigands, contrabandists--whatever you like to call us in your language--it is quite immaterial. Come with me and I will convince you." Again I hesitated. "Follow!" he commanded, taking up the torch. Together we descended a short flight of roughly-hewn steps into a small, dark, damp-smelling cavern below. As he lifted the torch above his head, I saw that the place was occupied. I shuddered and drew back in horror. Upon a heap of dirty, mouldy straw, lay a woman. Her dress was ragged and faded, but she was very beautiful, with light golden hair, and a face that betokened culture and refinement. Around her neck was a curious band of a blood-red colour. Upon her countenance was a ghastly pallor, the lips were bloodless, the jaw had dropped, the eyes were fixed and had a stony, horror-stricken look in them, for she was a corpse! "You are satisfied that we are brigands?" he asked. "Good! Now I will show you that we are contrabandists." Ascending the steps, we went to another part of the great cave, where he showed me kegs of cognac and wine, boxes of cigars, silks, and an assortment of dutiable merchandise. When we returned to where the other men were sitting, one of them, the elder of the party, who spoke with authority, addressed me. "Well," he said, "you have seen our stronghold, and recognise the impossibility of any one escaping from here, eh?" "Yes," I replied; "but I cannot conceive why I have been allured here. I am a poor man, and not worth robbing." "That is not our intention, signore," the contrabandist answered, with mock politeness, as he puffed a cloud of smoke from his rank cigar. "True, you have been entrapped, but if you consent to perform for us a small secret service, you are at liberty to depart; and, moreover, our good Giovanni will complete his contract, and see you safely to Lanslebourg." "What is the service?" I asked. "It is not at all difficult, and you will run no risk," he replied. He took from an ancient oak coffer a small sealed packet, and added, "We desire this taken to Briancon; will you undertake to do so?" "What am I to do with it?" I asked.