Then he turned
into a narrow passage on the left, and after following it for
some paces, halted before a small, strong door. His key jarred
in the lock, but he forced it shrieking round, and with a savage
flourish threw the door open.
I walked in and saw a mean, bare chamber with barred windows.
The floor was indifferently clean, there was no furniture. The
yellow light of the lanthorn falling on the stained walls gave
the place the look of a dungeon. I turned to the two men. 'This
is not a very good room,' I said. 'And it feels damp. Have you
no other?'
Louis looked doubtfully at his companion. But the porter shook
his head stubbornly.
'Why does he not speak?' I asked with impatience.
'He is dumb,' Louis answered.
'Dumb!' I exclaimed. 'But he hears.'
'He has ears,' the servant answered drily. 'But he has no
tongue, Monsieur.'
I shuddered. 'How did he lose it?' I asked.
'At Rochelle. He was a spy, and the king's people took him the
day the town surrendered. They spared his life, but cut out his
tongue.'
'Ah!' I said. I wished to say more, to be natural, to show
myself at my ease.
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