The younger man saw and drew in his breath. Even under the coating of dust his face turned a shade greyer.
“You had no need to fear that he would let us go!” the minister muttered, with half-conscious irony.
“No.”
“Nor I! There are two ropes.” And La Tribe breathed a few words of prayer. The object which had fixed his gaze was a gibbet: the only one of the three which could be seen from their eyrie.
Tignonville, on the other hand, turned sharply away, and with haggard eyes stared about the room. “We might defend the staircase,” he muttered. “Two men might hold it for a time.”
“We have no food.”
“No.” Suddenly he gripped La Tribe’s arm. “I have it!” he cried. “And it may do! It must do!” he continued, his face working. “See!” And lifting from the floor one of the ragged pallets, from which the straw protruded in a dozen places, he set it flat on his head.
It drooped at each corner—it had seen much wear—and, while it almost hid his face, it revealed his grimy chin and mortar-stained shoulders. He turned to his companion.
La Tribe’s face glowed as he looked. “It may do!” he cried. “It’s a chance! But you are right! It may do!”
Tignonville dropped the ragged mattress, and tore off his coat; then he rent his breeches at the knee, so that they hung loose about his calves.
“Do you the same!” he cried. “And quick, man, quick! Leave your boots! Once outside we must pass through the streets under these”—he took up his burden again and set it on his head—“until we reach a quiet part, and there we”
“Can hide! Or swim the river!” the minister said. He had followed his companion’s example, and now stood
