“Yes, he is alone, in a large, comfortable room, on the second floor of the corner tower.”
“The corner tower!” said Martial, “is that the very tall one, built on the edge of the cliff, where the rock rises almost perpendicularly?”
“Precisely,” answered M. de Sairmeuse, whose promptness plainly implied that he was ready to risk a good deal to enable the prisoner to escape.
“What kind of a window is there in the baron’s room?” inquired Martial.
“Oh, a tolerably large one, with a double row of iron bars, securely riveted into the stone walls. It overlooks the precipice.”
“The deuce! The bars can easily be cut through, but that precipice is a serious difficulty, and yet, in one respect, it is an advantage, for no sentinels are stationed there, are they?”
“No, never. Between the walls and the citadel and the edge of the rock there is barely standing room. The soldiers don’t venture there even in the day time.”
“There is one more important question. What is the distance from M. d’Escorval’s window to the ground?”
“I should say it is about forty feet from the base of the tower.”
“Good! And from the base of the tower to the foot of the cliff—how far is that?”