Mark heard the prostrate man muttering, and felt the hand he grasped trembling violently. "It puts life into me," he whispered, "when I was nearly spent. Tell me--pray tell me--where is my boy! Not a prisoner?" "No: safe with us, at the Black Tor." "Safe--at the Black Tor!" faltered Sir Morton. "Then you are an Eden?" "Of course: and my father is close by here with a dozen stout men to punish these villains and save you, and--you do not say anything about your child." There was no reply, and Mark pressed the hand he held, to find that there was no response, and that it was turning wet and cold, for the unfortunate prisoner had been unable to bear the tidings, and had swooned away. "Go back," whispered Mark, "and tell my father whom we have found." "Leave the light?" said the boy. "No, take it. Tell him all you have heard." The light glided away, and the next minute a faint sigh told that Sir Morton was regaining his senses, his complete recovery thereof being announced by a trembling pressure of the hand. "Weak," he whispered. "I was badly wounded. So Heaven has sent my greatest enemy to save us." "Us?" cried Mark excitedly. "Then Ralph Darley's sister is safe." "Will be, I pray," said Sir Morton feebly. "I, her father, can do no more." Sir Edward came up, in company with Dan Rugg and five men, approaching cautiously with one lantern; and they were in the act of descending to Mark and the prisoner when a hoarse bullying voice was heard from a distance, the words echoing and reverberating as along a vaulted passage. "Now then, back to your den, old fool. Don't be a week fetching that water." "I--I am going back," cried Sir Morton, and then in a whisper--"the light--the light. I will soon return." He caught at the lantern, and began to move off painfully, while his would-be rescuers stood watching till the light disappeared round a corner, and a minute later the same harsh voice was heard speaking fiercely. Then all was still. "Hah!" whispered Sir Edward, "at last. Keep all lights covered, Rugg, and go and bring up the rest of the men." Dan grunted, and they heard his steps as they stood listening. Twice over there came the hoarse sound of laughter, but Sir Morton did not return, and Sir Edward in his impatience was about to order a movement forward, now that all his men were at hand, when from out of the black darkness, close by where Mark stood listening with every nerve upon the strain, the lad heard a slight rustling, then a faint panting sound as of hasty breathing, and a low voice whispered: "Is any one there? Please speak." "Yes, yes," whispered Mark, and he stepped forward quickly with outstretching hands, which came in contact with one as cold as ice. "Oh!" gasped its owner, as another hand felt for him and clung to him. "I know your voice, Mark Eden. I am Minnie Darley: pray, pray come and help my father; he is too weak to come back to you." The voice trailed off into a wail.