"Here! Here!" whispered the strange, tremulous voice.

I stretched my hand along the wall and I came upon a man's naked
foot. It was as high as my face, and yet, so far as I could
feel, it had nothing to support it. I staggered back in
amazement. Then I took a tinder- box from my pocket and struck a
light. At the first flash a man seemed to be floating in the air
in front of me, and I dropped the box in my amazement. Again
with tremulous fingers I struck the flint against the steel, and
this time I lit not only the tinder but the wax taper. I held it
up, and if my amazement was lessened my horror was increased by
that which it revealed.

The man had been nailed to the wall as a weasel is nailed to the
door of a barn. Huge spikes had been driven through his hands
and his feet. The poor wretch was in his last agony, his head
sunk upon his shoulder and his blackened tongue protruding from
his lips. He was dying as much from thirst as from his wounds,
and these inhuman wretches had placed a beaker of wine upon the
table in front of him to add a fresh pang to his tortures.

I raised it to his lips. He had still strength enough to
swallow, and the light came back a little to his dim eyes.

"Are you a Frenchman?" he whispered.

"Yes. They have sent me to learn what had befallen you."

"They discovered me. They have killed me for it.