t 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