"No bars?" he said. "No, Monsieur, and no need of them. You will not go
by that road, bars or no bars."
"What is below?" Count Hannibal asked carelessly. "The river?"
"Yes, Monsieur," with a grin; "but not water. Mud, and six feet of it,
soft as Christmas porridge, but not so sweet. I've known two puppies
thrown in under this window that did not weigh more than a fat pullet
apiece. One was gone before you could count fifty, and the other did not
live thrice as long--nor would have lasted that time, but that it fell on
the first and clung to it."
Tavannes dismissed the matter with a shrug, and, drawing his cloak about
him, set a stool against the wall and sat down. The men who brought in
the wine and the bundle of straw were inquisitive, and would have
loitered, scanning him stealthily; but Peridol hurried them away. The
lieutenant himself stayed only to cast a glance round the room, and to
mutter that he would return when his lord returned; then, with a "Good
night" which said more for his manners than his good will, he followed
them out. A moment later the grating of the key in the lock and the
sound of the bolts as they sped home told Tavannes that he was a
prisoner.