Prisoners of Chance

"Our release, Madame."

She lifted her white hands in a sudden gesture of expostulation.

"Why ask that? It is utterly beyond my power, señor--at least, at once," in a tone of despair, convincing me she spoke truly. "We have our laws, which must be obeyed. It was the tribe who in battle took you prisoners, not I; it would cost me my position did I endeavor to give you immediate release."

"Could it be accomplished later?"

"Possibly it might."

"Will you promise me it shall?"

She hesitated, her eyes downcast, her bosom rising and falling to tumultuous breathing.

"Yes," at last slowly, as if she had weighed the problem with care. "I will pledge you my utmost help to that end."

"There is one thing more, Queen Naladi," I contended earnestly. "It is that Madame de Noyan be permitted meanwhile to abide with her husband."

The fair face darkened ominously. Instead of immediately answering she stepped across the room; returning, she held in her hands a small box in which I perceived papers.

"One moment, señor; move your stool here; yes, a trifle to the left where we may have clearer light shed upon these documents."

I drew it unsuspectingly to the spot indicated by her gesture, bending forward, wondering what it might be of importance she held in her hands.

"This, señor," she began calmly, slightly unrolling a written sheet, "is, as you will easily comprehend, the very document causing my unfortunate exile in this wilderness. You will take notice--"

As she spoke, I felt myself falling. She sprang hastily back, barely in time to escape my frenzied clutch upon her draperies; for one instant I clung to the stone slab of the floor desperately. Then she laughed, her heel crunched on my gripping fingers, and, with one muffled cry of despair, I went plunging down into the blackness.