“It is,” replied the jailer; “and you can readily conjecture, I doubt not, why I have thus dealt with you.” “I can,” resumed the esquire; “your jealousy prompted you to the deed. But you shall bitterly rue it.” “Bah!” exclaimed Nightgall. “You are wholly in my power. I am not, however, come to threaten, but to offer you freedom.” “On what terms?” demanded Cholmondeley. “On these,” replied the jailer, scowling—“that you swear to abandon Cicely.” “Never!” replied the esquire. 0083 “Then your fate is sealed,” rejoined Nightgall. “You shall never quit this spot.” “Think not to move me by any such idle threat,” returned Cholmondeley. “You dare not detain me.” “Who shall prevent me?” laughed the jailor, scornfully. “I, alone, possess the key of these dungeons. You are their sole occupant.” “That is false,” retorted the esquire. “There is another captive,—a miserable female,—whom I, myself, have seen.” “Has she been here?” cried Nightgall, with a look of disquietude. “Not many minutes since,” replied the other, fixing a scrutinizing glance upon him. “She came in search of her child. What have you done with it, villain?” Cholmondeley had no particular object in making the inquiry. But he was astonished at the effect produced by it on the jailer, who started and endeavoured to hide his confusion by pulling his cap over his brows. “She is a maniac,” he said, at length, in a hoarse voice. “If it be so,” rejoined the esquire, severely; “she has been driven out of her senses by your barbarous usage. I more than suspect you have murdered her child.” “Entertain what suspicions you please,” replied Nightgall, evidently relieved by the surmise. “I am not accountable for the ravings of a distracted woman.” “Who is she?” demanded the esquire. “The names of those confined within these cells are never divulged,’” returned the jailer. “She has been a prisoner of state for nineteen years.” “And during that term her child was born—ha?” pursued Cholmondeley. “I will answer no further questions,” replied Nightgall, doggedly. “One word before I depart. I am not your only enemy. You have others more powerful, and equally implacable. You have incurred the displeasure of the Privy Council, and I have a warrant, under the hands of its chief members, for your execution. I am now about to summon the headsman for the task.” “Then your offer to liberate me was mere mockery,” observed the esquire. “Not so,” replied the other; “and I again repeat it. Swear to abandon Cicely, and to maintain profound silence as to what you have just seen, and I will convey you by a secret passage underneath the Tower moat to a place of security, where you will be beyond the reach of your enemies, and will take the risk of your escape upon myself. Do you agree to this?” “No,” replied Cholmondeley, firmly. “I distrust your statement, and defy your malice.” “Obstinate fool!” growled the jailer. “Prepare to meet your fate in an hour.”