"And you are positive no one recognized you?" spoke the silken voice. "No one." "Take courage, Hormazd. Then there is little danger, yet you should take care that no one may see you. We are surrounded by spies." "Do you not trust Maraglia?" "I trust none! You will therefore remain a short time concealed in this subterranean passage." "Subterranean?" There was a note of terror in the Oriental's voice. "That is to say--the vaults! Here you will find honorable and pleasant company, who will not betray you. You will find straw in abundance and each day Maraglia will bring you something to eat. Go slowly. How do you like the abode?" "Not even the devil can find me here." "No one will find you here!" "No one knows where I am," Hormazd interposed dubiously. "Nor ever shall." "It is of no consequence. So I am safe." "You are safe enough. Lower your head and take care not to stumble over the threshold. Here--this side--enter." "Enter," re-echoed the other. Then there was a pause. "It is very evident, you are afraid--" "Afraid? No--but I am thinking we always know when we enter such places--never when we shall leave them." "How? Did I not say to-morrow night?" "But if you should not come for me?" "What profit would your death be to me? Where shall I find another wizard to bring to foretell the death of another Alberic?" Tristan gave an audible gasp at these words. He felt his limbs grow numb. Had his ears heard aright? Surely they had not. Some demon had mocked him, to drive him mad. Ere he could regain his mental balance, the voice of the Grand Chamberlain's companion again struck his ear. "But if you should not come, my lord?" "You could scream!" "What would that avail?" "Mind you--I might have to stay here myself for sheltering such a patriarch as you." "Nevertheless--to guard against all risks--leave the door open--" He entered, but the door turned immediately upon its hinges. "My Lord Basil--" shrieked Hormazd, "the door is shut--" "I stumbled against it." "Bring a light--open the door--" came a muffled voice from within. "I shall soon return." "Do not forget the light." "Light!--Ay! You shall not want for light,--if what I say be not false: Et lux perpetua luceat eis," chanted the Grand Chamberlain in Requiem measure, as he strode away. Silence, deep and sepulchral, succeeded. Tristan cowered on the floor, his face covered with his hands. If what he had overheard was true, he, too, was lost. What had happened? Who was the Grand Chamberlain's companion? Now Hormazd began to scream and rave in the darkness. Terrible execrations broke from the Oriental's lips, as he hurled his body against the iron bars of his prison cell. Demoniacal yells waked the silent echoes. The other prisoners, alarmed and rendered restless, soon joined in, and soon the dark vaults of the Emperor's Tomb resounded with a veritable pandemonium, a chorus of the damned that caused Tristan to put his fingers to his ears lest he, too, go mad.