in this by-path, through which neither I nor Simon
Fleix would have been likely to pass. Again, had madame not dropped it
in her turn, we should have sought in vain for any, even the slightest,
clue to Mademoiselle de la Vire's fate or position.

Cheered afresh by this thought, I determined to walk to the end of the
lane; and forthwith did so, looking sharply about me as I went, but
meeting no one. The bare upper branches of a tree rose here and there
above the walls, which were pierced at intervals by low, strong doors.
These doors I carefully examined, but without making any discovery;
all were securely fastened, and many seemed to have been rarely opened.
Emerging at last and without result on the inner side of the city
ramparts, I turned, and moodily retraced my steps through the lane,
proceeding more slowly as I drew near to the Rue de Valois. This time,
being a little farther from the street, I made a discovery.

The corner house, which had its front on the Rue Valois, presented, as
I have said, a dead, windowless wall to the lane; but from my present
standpoint I could see the upper part of the back of this house--that
part of the back, I mean, which rose above the lower garden-wall that
abutted on it--and in this there were several windows. The whole of two
and a part of a third were within the range of my eyes; and suddenly in
one of these I discovered something which made my heart beat high with
hope and expectation. The window in question was heavily grated; that
which I saw was tied to one of the bars. It was a small knot of some
white stuff--linen apparently--and it seemed a trifle to the eye; but
it was looped, as far as I could see from a distance, after the same
fashion as the scrap of velvet I had in my pouch.

The conclusion was obvious, at the same time that it inspired me with
the liveliest admiration of mademoiselle's wit and resources. She was
confined in that room; the odds were that she was behind those bars. A
bow dropped thence would fall, the wind being favourable, into the lane,
not ten, but twenty paces from the street. I ought to have been prepared
for a slight inaccuracy in a woman's estimate of distance.

It may be imagined with what eagerness I now scanned the house, with
what minuteness I sought for a weak place. The longer I looked, however,
the less comfort I derived from my inspection. I saw before me a gloomy
stronghold of brick, four-square, and built in the old Italian manner,