the pipe should have clung close to the masonry, there was a gleam of light! That light must come from the cell of the king! I set my shoulder against the pipe and exerted my strength. The chink widened a very, very little, and hastily I desisted; I had done enough to show that the pipe was not fixed in the masonry at the lower side.
Then I heard a voice—a harsh, grating voice.
"Well, sire, if you have had enough of my society I will leave you to repose; but I must fasten the little ornaments first."
It was Detchard! I caught the English accent in a moment.
"Have you anything to ask, sire, before we part?"
The king's voice followed. It was his, though it was faint and hollow—different from the merry tones I had heard in the glades of the forest.
"Pray my brother," said the king, "to kill me. I am dying by inches here."
"The duke does not desire your death, sire—yet," sneered Detchard; "when he does, behold your path to heaven!"
