"I've been so frightened," she trembled. "The man said you wanted me and I came at once, but, in the automobile, I felt something was wrong and—you know he is outside?" Her eyes widened anxiously.
"I know. Sit down here." He pointed to the table. "Does Pougeot know about this?"
She shook her head. "The man came for M. Pougeot first. I wasn't down at breakfast yet, so I don't know what he said, but they went off together. I'm afraid it was a trick. Then about twenty minutes later the same man came back and said M. Pougeot was with you and that he had been sent to bring me to you. He showed me your ring and——"
"Yes, yes, I understand," interrupted Coquenil. "You are not to blame, only—God, what can I do?" He searched the shadows with a savage sense of helplessness.
"But it's all right, now, M. Paul," she said confidently, "I am with you."
Her look of perfect trust came to him with a stab of pain.
"My poor child," he muttered, peering about him, "I'm afraid we are—in trouble—but—wait a minute."
Taking the candle, Coquenil went through the arched opening into the larger chamber and made a hurried inspection. The room was about fifteen feet square and ten feet high, with everything of stone—walls, floor, and arched ceiling. Save for the passage into the smaller room, there was no sign of an opening anywhere except two small square holes near the ceiling, probably ventilating shafts.
Around the four walls were logs piled evenly to the height of nearly six feet, and at the archway the pile ran straight through into the smaller room. The logs were in two-foot lengths, and as the archway was about four feet wide, the passage between the two rooms was half blocked with wood.