The certainty,which this sound gave me,that I was in the right house,and that it held also the villain to whom I owed all my misfortunes--for who but Fresnoy could have furnished the broken coin which had deceived mademoiselle?--had a singularly inspiriting effect upon me.I felt every muscle in my body grow on the instant;hard as steel,my eyes more keen,my ears sharper--all my senses more apt and vigorous.I stole off like a cat from the balustrade,over which I had been looking,and without a second's delay began the search for mademoiselle's room;reflecting that though the garrison now amounted to four,Ihad no need to despair.If I could release the prisoners without noise--which would be easy were the key in the lock--we might hope to pass through the hall by a tour de force of one kind or another.And a church-clock at this moment striking Five,and reminding me that we had only half an hour in which to do all and reach the horses,I was the more inclined to risk something.
The light which I had seen from below hung in a flat-bottomed lantern just beyond the head of the stairs,and outside the entrance to one of two passages which appeared to lead to the back part of the house.Suspecting that M.de Bruhl's business had lain with mademoiselle,I guessed that the light had been placed for his convenience.With this clue and the position of the window to guide me,I fixed on a door on the right of this passage,and scarcely four paces from the head of the stairs.
Before I made any sign,however,I knelt down and ascertained that there was a light in the room,and also that the key was not in the lock.
So far satisfied,I scratched on the door with my finger-nails,at first softly,then with greater force,and presently I heard someone in the room rise.I felt sure that the person whoever it was had taken the alarm and was listening,and putting my lips to the keyhole I whispered mademoiselle's name.
A footstep crossed the room sharply,and I heard muttering just within the door.I thought I detected two voices.But I was impatient,and,getting no answer,whispered in the same manner as before,'Mademoiselle de la Vire,are you there?'
Still no answer.The muttering,too,had stopped,and all was still--in the room,and in the silent house.I tried again.'It is I,Gaston de Marsac,'I said.'Do you hear?I am come to release you.'I spoke as loudly as I dared,but most of the sound seemed to come back on me and wander in suspicious murmurings down the staircase.
This time,however,an exclamation of surprise rewarded me,and a voice,which I recognised at once as mademoiselle's,answered softly:
'What is it?Who is there?'
'Gaston de Marsac,'I answered.'Do you need my help?'
The very brevity of her reply;the joyful sob which accompanied it,and which I detected even through the door;the wild cry of thankfulness--almost an oath--of her companion--all.these assured me at once that I was welcome--welcome as I had never been before--and,so assuring me,braced me to the height of any occasion which might befall.
'Can you open the door?I muttered.All the time I was on my knees,my attention divided between the inside of the room and the stray sounds which now and then came up to me from the hall below.'Have you the key?'
'No;we are locked in,'mademoiselle answered.
I expected this.'If the door is bolted inside,'I whispered,'unfasten it,if you please!'
They answered that it was not,so bidding them stand back a little from it,I rose and set my shoulder against it.I hoped to be able to burst it in with only one crash,which by itself,a single sound,might not alarm the men downstairs.But my weight made no impression upon the lock,and the opposite wall being too far distant to allow me to get any purchase for my feet,Ipresently desisted.The closeness of the door to the jambs warned me that an attempt to prise it open would be equally futile;and for a moment I stood gazing in perplexity at the solid planks,which bid fair to baffle me to the end.
The position was,indeed,one of great difficulty,nor can I now think of any way out of it better or other than that which Iadopted.Against the wall near the head of the stairs I had noticed,as I came up,a stout wooden stool.I stole out and fetched this,and setting it against the opposite wall,endeavoured in this way to get sufficient purchase for my feet.
The lock still held;but,as I threw my whole weight on the door,the panel against which I leaned gave way and broke inwards with a loud,crashing sound,which echoed through the empty house,and might almost have been beard in the street outside.
It reached the ears,at any rate,of the men sitting below,and Iheard them troop noisily out and stand in the hall,now talking loudly,and now listening.A minute of breathless suspense followed--it seemed a long minute;and then,to my relief,they tramped back again,and I was free to return to my task.Another thrust,directed a little lower,would,I hoped,do the business;but to make this the more certain I knelt down and secured the stool firmly against the wall.As I rose after settling it,something else,without sound or warning,rose also,taking me completely by surprise--a man's head above the top stair,which,as it happened,faced me.His eyes met mine,and I knew I was discovered.
He turned and bundled downstairs again with a scared face,going so quickly that I could not have caught him if I would,or had had the wit to try.Of silence there was so longer need.In a few seconds the alarm would be raised.I had small time for thought.Laying myself bodily against the door,I heaved and pressed with all my strength;but whether I was careless in my haste,or the cause was other,the lock did not give.Instead the stool slipped,and I fell with a crash on the floor at the very moment the alarm reached the men below.
