"Oh--oh!--a dungeon," cried the king.
"No, a subterranean passage." "Which leads-- ?" "Will you be good enough to follow us ?" "I shall not stir from hence!" cried the king.
"If you are obstinate, my dear young friend," replied the taller of the two, "I will lift you up in my arms, and roll you up in your own cloak, and if you should happen to be stifled, why--so much the worse for you." As he said this, he disengaged from beneath his cloak a hand of which Milo of Crotona would have envied him the possession, on the day when he had that unhappy idea of rending his last oak.

The king dreaded violence, for he could well believe that the two men into whose power he had fallen had not gone so far with any idea of drawing back, and that they would consequently be ready to proceed to extremities, if necessary.

He shook his head and said: "It seems I have fallen into the hands of a couple of assassins.

Move on, then." Neither of the men answered a word to this remark.

The one who carried the lantern walked first, the king followed him, while the second masked figure closed the procession.