He tried to speak lightly and to cheer the girl, but in his breast his heart lay heavy as a lump of lead.
"Suppose they don't come in, what then?" suddenly resumed Beatrice. "What if they leave us here till--"
"There, there, little girl! Don't you go borrowing any trouble! We've got enough of the real article, without manufacturing any!"
Silence again, and a long, dark, interminable waiting. In the black cell the air grew close and frightfully oppressive. Clad as they both were in fur garments suitable to outdoor life and to aeroplaning at great altitudes, they were suffering intensely from the heat.
Stern's wrists and arms, moreover, still pained considerably, for they had been very cruelly bruised with the ropes, which the barbarians had drawn tight with a force that bespoke both skill and deftness. His need of some occupation forced him to assure himself, a dozen times over, that both revolvers were completely filled. Fortunately, the captors had not known enough to rob either Beatrice or him of the cartridge-belts they wore.
How long a time passed? One hour, two, three?
They could not tell.
But, overcome by the vitiated air and the great heat, Beatrice slept at last, her head in the man's lap. He, utterly spent, leaned his back against the wall of black and polished stone, nodding with weariness and great exhaustion.
He, too, must have dropped off into a troubled sleep, for he did not hear the unbolting of the massive iron cell-door.
But all at once, with a quick start, he recovered consciousness. He found himself broad awake, with the girl clutching at his arm and pointing.
With dazzled eyes he stared--stared at a strange figure standing framed in a rectangle of blue and foggy light.
Even as he shouted: "Hold on, there! Get back out o' that, you!" and jerked his ugly pistol at the old man's breast--for very aged this man seemed, bent and feeble and trembling as he leaned upon an iron staff--a voice spoke dully through the half-gloom, saying: "Peace, friends! Peace be unto you!"
Stern started up in wild amaze.
From his nerveless fingers the pistol dropped. And, as it clattered on the floor, he cried: "English? You speak English? Who are you? English! English! Oh, my God!"