After breakfast they did go to see the Baron Dangloss. After
some inquiry they found the gloomy, foreboding prison, and Mr.
Anguish boldly pounded on the huge gates. A little shutter flew
open, and a man's face appeared. Evidently he asked what was
wanted, but he might as, well have demanded their lives, so far
were they from understanding his query.

"Baron Dangloss?" asked Anguish, promptly. The man asked
something else, but as the Americans shook their heads
deprecatingly, he withdrew his face and presently swung open the
gates. They entered and he closed the doors behind them,
locking them in. Then he directed them across the court to an
open door in the aged mass of gray stone. As they strode away
from the guard Lorry created consternation by demanding:

"How are we to talk to the Chief if he doesn't understand us or
we him? We should lave brought an interpreter."

"I forgot about the confounded language. But if he's real he
can talk Irish." Lorry told him he wasn't funny.

"Is this His Excellency, Baron Dangloss?" asked Anguish,
stepping into a small room and stopping suddenly in the presence
of the short, fierce man they had seen the day before. The
American spoke in French.

"It is, gentlemen. Of what service can I be to Messieurs Lorry
and Anguish?" responded the grim little Chief, politely rising
from beside his desk. The visitors looked at one another in
surprise.