"Yes, Countess, I've seen him since."
"After he was free?"
"As free as air." He leaned against the paneled wall and put his hand to his head. "I am very tired ... had no sleep ... and no food.... I am getting old."
"You must come and rest now." Ian put his arm round the stooping shoulders. The old man made no further resistance. He was dead-beat.
"But you must help me give him this," said Vanda, holding up her plate of food. Her face was radiant. Joseph was safe, above all he would never fight with Prussia again.
"Let Father take a mouthful first," said her aunt reprovingly. "Can't you see his condition?"
Vanda's heart smote her; she blushed and took some food to the priest, who, however, could eat but little. All he needed was rest.
"The shock," he explained, seeing their anxious faces. "Joseph Skarbek ... up there..."
They would not let him go back to the chapel, but Ian and Vanda, with infinite precaution, took the food to Joseph. Meanwhile, Minnie went to see the turret chamber, which she knew only from the outside. The dark stairway was littered with rubbish left by the soldiers. The chamber door stood open, as if the guards had rushed out of it in vain pursuit of their prisoner. She went in.
There were some dirty plates, and a straw pallet. Her eyes searched the door and the blood rushed to her face. The lock was intact! She examined it. Far from being old and weak, it was quite strong; indeed, it had been put on when Rennenkampf sent Joseph up to await his death. Roman had not escaped that way: she was certain of it, the old priest had hidden the truth. She turned to the window, which was only a slit in the wall, protected by a grating of iron bars. They, too, were firm and strong in the stone work. She looked out and saw a sheer drop of eighty feet, into the moat below. There was nothing Roman could have held, even supposing he had accomplished the impossible and squeezed himself between those bars.