The door, after a time, was swung open.
One of the men with a lantern entered first. He was followed by the leader of the helmeted men. Then entered the pit master, who had been released by those who had held him. Some other men, too, entered, including the lieutenant.
The lantern was held up, and the men regarded the sitting figure within.
“He is a big one,” said a man.
“So are many of his caste,” said another.
The peasant lifted his eyes, blinking, against the lantern.
“Light the lamps in the cell,” said the leader of the helmeted men.
The lamps, one by one, were lit. I had usually lit only one, in my attendance here.
Fina and I, and the other girls, as the lamps were being lit, were thrust into the cell and knelt to one side, on the right, as one would look toward the prisoner. In this fashion, our helplessness was increased, we now being subject to a custody stricter than would have been possible in the open corridor. Certainly we would be less tempted to run. Too, this disposition of us freed more men to enter the cell.
“You have misled us again, have you not?” inquired the leader of the strangers.
“I do not understand,” said the pit master.
“You are a brave man,” said he, “to trifle with those of the black caste.”
“Perhaps he whom you seek is not here,” said the pit master.
“Who are you?” demanded the leader of the strangers of the peasant.
“I do not know,” said the peasant.
The leader of the black-tunicked men straightened up, disgustedly.
“Is it time for the planting?” asked the peasant.
The leader of the black-tunicked men turned in fury to the pit master, who stood to one side, to his left.
“You would palm this off upon us,” demanded the leader of the black-tunicked men, “for he whom we seek?”
“I do not understand you,” said the pit master.
“You understand me all too well!” cried the leader of the strangers. “You put a madman here, a simpleton, a dolt, one out of his wits, one who does not know his own name, a worthless, meaningless brute, a monster of no consequence, and expect to delude us!”
“We can seek further, if you wish,” said the pit master.
“We have it on authority,” said the leader of the black-tunicked men, “that he whom we seek is in the depths. Were is he?”
“Who?”
The leader of the black-tunicked men looked about himself, angrily. But he did not respond. Then he turned back to face the pit master. “You trifle not only with me,” he said. “You trifle with Cos, with Lurius of Jad.”
“I shall be pleased to seek further,” said the pit master.
“You are clever, pretending reluctance,” said the leader of the black-tunicked men. “The matter of the keys was well done. Not knowing where they were, and all. And this dolt, this garbage, in the lowest corridor, in five chains! So clever!”
“But Captain,” said the lieutenant. “Should we not call Gito?”
“For what?” snapped the captain.
“To examine the prisoner.”
“Where is our dear friend Gito?”
“He lingers in the corridor. He fears to enter.”
“Gito!” called the captain, he who was the leader of the black-tunicked men.
“Master?” inquired Gito.
“Enter, look upon the prisoner.”
The small, furtive fellow, with the terrible scarred face, perhaps from scalding, entered the cell.
“Is it he?” asked the leader of the strangers, pointing to the peasant.
“It cannot me,” said Gito, squinting.
“Could you recognize him?”
“I could recognize him anywhere,” said Gito.
“Look closely upon him,” said the leader of the strangers. “Bring the lantern closer,” he said to one of his men.
“Do not be afraid,” said the lieutenant. “He is chained.”
Gito, the side of his face moving, knelt down before the peasant, looking at him closely.
“Well?” demanded the leader of the strangers.
“There is a resemblance,” said Gito, slowly.
“Of course there is a resemblance,” said the officer, angrily. “These sleen of Treve would have managed that.”
Gito continued his consideration of the peasant’s countenance.
“No,” he said, at last. “I do not think it is he.”
He then stood up.
“We must look further,” said the leader of the black-tunicked men, turning away.
“Gito?” said the peasant.
The leader of the black-tunicked men turned sharply back, to regard the peasant.
The cell was very quiet.
Gito began to tremble.
“Gito?” said the peasant.
“He knows him!” said the lieutenant.
“Yes?” said Gito, backing away.
“Is it you?” asked the peasant.
“Yes,” said Gito.
“He heard the name before. You spoke it yourself,” said the pit master.
“Be silent!” said the leader of the black-tunicked men.
The peasant lifted his eyes, seemingly vacant, toward the leader of the strangers.
“You wear black,” he said.
“Do you know the meaning of such habiliments?” inquired the leader of the strangers, eagerly.
“No,” said the peasant.
“You remember them, such habiliments?” said the leader of the strangers.
“I do not know,’ said the peasant.
“Think, think!” said the leader of the strangers.
“Perhaps,” said the peasant.
“It was long ago,” urged the leader of the strangers.
“Perhaps,” said the peasant. “Long ago,”
“Where is your holding?” asked the leader of the strangers.
“I do not know,” said the peasant.
“Near Ar?”
But the peasant was looking on Gito, who shrank back, among several of the men in black.
“Are you not my friend Gito?” asked the peasant.
“He knows him!” said the lieutenant.
“Is your holding not near Ar?” asked the leader of the strangers.
“Perhaps,” said the peasant. “I do not know.”
“Dow with Ar!” said the leader of the strangers.
“No,” said the peasant, very slowly.
“Yes,” said the leader of the strangers, “down with Ar!”
“Down with Ar’?” said the peasant.
“Yes, down with her!” said the leader of the strangers.
The peasant seemed puzzled.
“Ar is nothing to you,” said the pit master.
“I spit upon the Home Stone of Ar!” said the leader of the strangers.
“Ar is nothing to you,” insisted the pit master.
“Be silent!” said the leader of the strangers.
“Is she in danger?” asked the peasant.
“Yes!” said the leader of the strangers.
“Then those who are of Ar must defend her,” said the peasant.
“I am sure it is he!” said the lieutenant, delightedly.
“And what of you?” urged the leader of the helmeted men. “Are you not of Ar?” must you, too, not defend her?”
“Is it time for the planting?” asked the peasant.
“Must you not defend Ar?” asked the leader of the black-tunicked men.
“Why?” asked the peasant.
“Are you not of Ar?”
“I do not know.”
The leader of the helmeted men stepped back.
“It is he,” insisted the lieutenant.
“I agree,” said the leader of the helmeted men. He then, with two hands, removed his helmet. A gasp escaped me, and several of the other girls, too, for, on the forehead of the leader, fixed there, presumably this morning, was the image of a black dagger. It was such a thing, it seemed, that these men had placed on their foreheads this morning. The leader of the black tunicked men now handed his helmet to one of the others. He also drew his dagger. “Bring the sack forward,” he said to the fellow with the sack. It was brought forward, and opened.
“He is chained!” said the pit master.
The peasant looked out, as he often did, seeming to see nothing.
He called Gito turned his face away.
“You have played a clever game of double Kaissa,” said the leader of the black-tunicked men. “leading us to believe, as though falsely, this was he whom we seek, when it was in truth he, but the game has been penetrated.”