"We can go on."
Ten more steps brought them to a tiny vaulted hall. From that a passage, bricked and paved, led into darkness. Frobisher led the way along the passage until the foot of another flight of steps was reached.
"Where do these steps lead, my friend?" Hanaud asked of Frobisher, his voice sounding with a strange hollowness in that tunnel. "You shall tell me."
Jim, with memories of that night when he and Ann and Betty had sat in the dark of the perfumed garden and Ann's eyes had searched this way and that amidst the gloom of the sycamores, answered promptly:
"Into the garden of the Maison Crenelle."
Hanaud chuckled.
"And you, Mademoiselle, what do you say?"
Ann's face clouded over.
"I know now," she said gravely. Then she shivered and drew her cloak slowly about her shoulders. "Let us go up and see!"
Hanaud took the lead. He lowered a trap-door at the top of the steps, touched a spring and slid back a panel.