Questions whirled in Rodvard’s mind, but the larger of the pair said; “Hurry,” and gripped him by the elbow like the guard who had brought him in, dragging along the corridor. “Wait!” said Rodvard, resisting. “There is another—” “We must hurry,” said Demadé Slair. “You do not know how desperate a business this is. We have had to kill.” “No. I will not leave her. She is my sweetheart; my witch.” “You have her here? Of the two of you, she is the more important! Where is she?” “At the third cell here, I think.” Without another word Slair counted off. “The torch, Cordisso,” and began to try keys from a chain of them. The big man advanced the torch, but the place held only some babbling, furtive creature with white hair and idiot eyes. The next cell was empty. Slair swore furiously. “You are sure your doxy’s here?” “She was brought in with me.” He tried another door. It was she, rising surprised from the floor in a whirl of dresses. Rodvard pushed past the small man to grip her by the hands. “Come, and quickly.” She made small uncomprehending sounds. Rodvard put an arm around her and drew her toward the door. Reverse of the stair by which they had been brought in; in the torchlight Rodvard saw a pair of feet at the base. A dead man, one of the guards. In spite of the hurry, he paused to unbelt the fellow’s dag, and rushed with the rest, feeling more a man again now the lost knife was replaced. At the outer gate stood two more men, hoods pulled over their faces. They saluted Demadé respectively and led across the street to where a carriage stood, pushing Lalette into the back seat. There were three horses, one in front of the pair, according to the Mancherei fashion. One of the hooded men cracked his whip, and they were off at a bumping pace, as Demadé Slair said; “It is as well you were placed in arrest and proclaimed this afternoon. We should not have known how to find you otherwise.” “Who sent you—Dr. Remigorius?” A shadow winked across the man’s face, even in the dark. “The High Center; I say the revolt has begun and they are in rule. But you shall be told everything soon.” He would say no more; the carriage bumped across cobbles, and they were at the dock, with a man holding a candle-lantern by its side. Slair leaped down without offering a hand to Lalette and sprang across the plank of a ship with “Hurry!” Already, as she and Rodvard reached the deck a whistle was blown, and men were moving rapidly among the ropes. They followed their guide’s beckoning down a ladder to a cabin; he set the lantern on a table.