--I had my wax in the palm of my hand. I leaned against the lock
as though accidentally, and here is the impression; we may not want it
to-day, but another time it may be useful."

And the Chouette gave the brigand a bit of yellow wax, on which the
print of the lock was perfectly impressed.

"You can tell us whether this is the door of the money-chest," said the
Chouette.

"It is, and there is the cash," replied Rodolph; and then said to
himself, "Has Murphy, then, been the dupe of this cursed old hag?
Perhaps so, and he only expects to be assailed at ten o'clock; by that
time every precaution will have been taken."

"But all the money is not there," continued the Chouette, and her one
green eye sparkled. "As I approached the windows, still searching for my
darling Cocotte, I saw in one of the chambers (door on the left) some
bags of crown pieces, in a bureau. I saw them as plainly as I see you,
my man; there were at least a dozen of them."

"Where is Tortillard?" said the Schoolmaster.

"In his hiding-place,--not more than two paces from the garden. He can
see in the dark like a cat. There is only that one entrance to No. 17,
so when we go he will tell us if any one has come or not."

"That's good--"

The Schoolmaster had scarcely uttered these words than he made a sudden
rush at Rodolph, grappled him by the throat, and flung him violently
down the cellar which was yawning behind the table.

The attack was so rapid, unexpected, and powerful, that Rodolph could
neither foresee nor avoid it. The Chouette, alarmed, uttered a piercing
shriek; for at the first moment she had not seen the result of the
struggle. When the noise of Rodolph's body rolling down the steps had
ceased, the Schoolmaster, who knew all the ways and windings of the
underground vaults in the place, went down the stairs slowly, listening
as he went.

"_Fourline_, be on your guard," cried the beldam, leaning over the
opening of the trap; "draw your 'pinking iron.'"

The brigand disappeared without any reply. For a time nothing was heard,
but at the end of a few moments the distant noise of a door shutting,
which creaked on its rusty hinges, sounded harshly in the depths of the
cavern; then all was again still as death. The darkness was complete.
The Chouette fumbled in her basket, and then, producing a lucifer-match,
lighted a wax taper, whose feeble ray made visible the darkness of this
dreary den.

At this moment the monster-visage of the