“The chimneys?”
“Yes; why not? We can lift them over and drop them inside.”
“But they would fall to the bottom.”
“Perhaps not. Let me see,” and I ran to the nearest chimney, drew myself to the top of it, and carefully let myself down within. My feet encountered an obstacle, and I cautiously bore my weight upon it. It seemed quite firm, and I released my hold of the chimney and stooped down to investigate. I found that I was standing upon a heavy iron grating solidly embedded in the masonry. In a moment I understood. It had been placed there to prevent any one crawling up the chimney and perhaps escaping. There was a certain grim humor in the thought that this grating, which had been designed to prevent escape, should be of assistance to us. “Come, this is excellent,” I said, clambering out, and I explained to Richelieu what I had found. “One man in each chimney, well bound and gagged. I warrant you they will not be soon discovered.”
“But they will be smothered!” exclaimed the duke.
“By what?”
“By smoke and heat.”
“Ah, you forget, monsieur,” I said, “how few fires there are in the Bastille, and how small are the few which do exist.”
“True,” murmured Richelieu; and added, “You seem to think of everything, my friend.”
It was the work of only a few moments to strip our prisoners and draw their clothes on over our own. Each had a dagger in his belt, and these also we appropriated. Our hats we dropped down the chimney nearest us.