What was my dismay to know that I was to be taken back again to my
dungeon, and not lodged in the common jail, as I had hoped and Alixe had
hinted! When I saw whither my footsteps were directed I said nothing,
nor did Gabord speak at all. We marched back through a railing crowd as
we had come, all silent and gloomy. I felt a chill at my heart when the
citadel loomed up again out of the November shadow, and I half paused as
I entered the gates. “Forward!” said Gabord mechanically, and I moved
on into the yard, into the prison, through the dull corridors, the
soldiers’ heels clanking and resounding behind, down into the bowels of
the earth, where the air was moist and warm, and then into my dungeon
home! I stepped inside, and Gabord ordered the ropes off my person
somewhat roughly, watched the soldiers till they were well away, and
then leaned against the wall, waiting for me to speak. I had no impulse
to smile, but I knew how I could most touch him, and so I said lightly,
“You’ve got dickey-bird home again.”
He answered nothing and turned towards the door, leaving the torch stuck
in the wall. But he suddenly stopped short, and suddenly thrust out to
me a tiny piece of paper.
“A hand touched mine as I went through the Chateau,” said he, “and when
out I came, look you, this here! I can’t see to read. What does it say?”
he added, with a shrewd attempt at innocence.