Dropping on my knees, I tested the under side.

And my breath went quick and fast, for on this lower side, where the pipe should have clung close to the masonry, there was a gleam of light! That light must come from the cell of the King! I set my shoulder against the pipe and exerted my strength.

The chink widened a very, very little, and hastily I desisted; I had done enough to show that the pipe was not fixed in the masonry at the lower side.
Then I heard a voice--a harsh, grating voice: "Well, sire, if you have had enough of my society, I will leave you to repose; but I must fasten the little ornaments first." It was Detchard! I caught the English accent in a moment.
"Have you anything to ask, sire, before we part ?" The King's voice followed.

It was his, though it was faint and hollow--different from the merry tones I had heard in the glades of the forest.
"Pray my brother," said the King, "to kill me.

I am dying by inches here." "The duke does not desire your death, sire--yet," sneered Detchard; "when he does behold your path to heaven!" The King answered: "So be it! And now, if your orders allow it, pray leave me." "May you dream of paradise!" said the ruffian.
The light disappeared.