He replied with a cry of joy.
“Splendid! I feared that you were dead, my friend! Now let us see what bones are broken. Can you move yourself?”
For answer I sat upright, then got unsteadily to my feet. They looked at me as at one risen from the dead.
“But where is Roquefort?” I asked suddenly. “He has not escaped?”
Fronsac pointed to a dark mass which lay just at the cliff-foot.
“He is there,” he said. “He is far past escape. He was still bound to the rope when it broke. You fell upon him, which may explain your good fortune. But we thought you dead!”
“The rope did not break,” I said, “it was cut. They blew down the door with a charge of powder.”
“But you are quite sure you have no bones broken?” asked Fronsac anxiously.
I stretched my arms and felt myself all over.
“Quite sure,” I said at last. “Nothing worse than a few bruises. But let us look at him.”