I placed him against the wall opposite Drouet, who stared at him with distended eyes, plainly understanding nothing of the mystery of his death.
“That would have been your fate,” I said, “had any but I dealt with you. I wish you a pleasant night, Monsieur,” and I left the cell, bolting the door behind me. Certainly it would take Roquefort some little time to get it open again and learn Drouet’s story.
The corridor was very dark, but I groped my way to the spot where the sentry had fallen, picked up his musket, and made my way down to the floor below. There I found a torch burning, doubtless for the sentry’s use. In a moment I was fumbling at the door of the cell there. Half a dozen keys I tried, and at last the lock turned. I threw the door open with feverish haste. Within, I saw a figure lying on a pallet in one corner.
“Fronsac!” I called. “Fronsac!”
He sprang towards me with a cry of amazement.
“Is it you, Marsan? We are going to escape then?”
“We are going to try,” I answered, as I returned the warm pressure of his hands. “Come, Monsieur, there is not a moment to lose.”
“But Valérie?” he questioned, holding back. “I do not understand. What of her?”
“It is to her we go,” I said. “We will take her with us.”
His face lighted with a sudden joy.