We followed him around a turn in the corridor, down a short flight of steps and along another corridor so dark that, trembling at my temerity, I passed my arm about my companion and pressed her to me in order that she might not fall.
“We shall escape!” I whispered. “We shall escape! God will not permit us to be killed like this!”
I fancied that she drew closer to me, but I could not see her face.
“Here we are,” said M. le Comte. Then there came the click of a latch, the creaking of rusty hinges, and a gust of cold air rushed out upon us. We pressed forward into the black pit beyond. The door clanged shut behind us, and at the same instant a shot rang out and I heard the pang of a bullet as it struck the iron.
“Just a breath too late!” said M. le Comte with a grim laugh and dropped the great bars into place. “They will not soon get past this door,” he added, as we stopped to take breath. “It is as solid as the wall itself. We are safe for a time at least.”
“You are there, Charlotte?” asked madame’s voice. “You are safe?”
“Yes, madame,” answered my companion. “M. de Tavernay has taken good care of me.”
She gently drew away from me, but left her hand in mine.
“I hope you will leave her in my care, madame,” I said. “It is a welcome trust.”
“So your spirits survive even this misfortune, monsieur?”