hat it was supported by two stone brackets.

"You mean the thing that holds the shelf up?"

"Yes, you must press it."

"But there are two things that hold the shelf up. Is it the one on this
side that you press or the one on that side?"

"Dear me, what an _aggravating_ boy! It's the one _this_ side, of course."

"Good! You lie down now and I'll have it open in a jiffy."

He started to force Alice behind the shelter, for the heat was actually
blistering the skin, but to his surprise he found her suddenly limp in his
arms. Having spoken these strange words of wisdom or of folly, she had gone
back into unconsciousness.

Coquenil believed that they were words of wisdom, and without a moment's
hesitation, he acted on that belief. The wall underneath the shelf was half
covered with piled-up logs and these must be removed; which meant that he
must work there for several minutes with the fierce breath of the fire
hissing over him.

It was the work of a madman, or of one inspired. Three times Coquenil fell
to the floor, gasping for breath, blinded by the flames that were roaring
all about him, poisoned by deadly fumes. The skin on his arms and neck was
hanging away in shreds, the pain was unbearable, yet he bore it, the task
was impossible, yet he did it.

At last the space under the shelf was cleared, and staggering, blackened,
blinded, yet believing, Paul Coquenil stumbled forward and seized the
left-hand bracket in his two bruised hands and pressed it with all his
might.

Instantly a door underneath, cunningly hidden in the wall, yawned open on a
square black passage.

"It's here that the fairies play," muttered M. Paul, "and it's a mighty
good place for us!"

With a bound he was back at the shelter and had Alice in his arms, smiling
again, as she slept--as she dreamed. And a moment later he had carried her
safely through flames that actually singed her hair, and laid her tenderly
in the cool passage. _And beside her he laid the baron's diary!_

[Illustration: "And a moment later he had carried her safely through the
flames."]

Then he went back to close the door. It was high time, for the last
obstructing logs of the old barricade had fallen and the chamber was a
seething mass of fire.

"I feel pretty rotten," reflected Coquenil with a whimsical smile. "My hair
is burned off and my eyebrows are gone and about half my skin, but--I guess
I'll take a chance on a burn or two more and rescue Esmeralda!"

Where