“I was on guard in the corridor communicating with the prisoner’s apartment in the tower, when at about half-past two o’clock, after Lacheneur had been placed in his cell, I saw an officer approaching me. I challenged him; he gave me the countersign, and, naturally, I allowed him to pass. He went down the corridor, and entered the room adjoining that in which Monsieur d’Escorval was confined. He remained there about five minutes.”
“Did you recognize this officer?” Martial eagerly inquired.
And the soldier answered: “No. He wore a large cloak, the collar of which was turned up so high that it covered his face to the very eyes.”
Who could this mysterious officer have been? What was he doing in the room where the ropes had been deposited?
Martial racked his brain to discover an answer to these questions.
The Marquis de Courtornieu himself seemed much disturbed.
“How could you be ignorant that there were many sympathizers with this movement in the garrison?” he said, angrily. “You might have known that this visitor, who concealed his face so carefully, was an accomplice who had been warned by Bavois, and who came to see if he needed a helping hand.”
This was a plausible explanation, still it did not satisfy Martial.
“It is very strange,” he thought, “that Monsieur d’Escorval has not even deigned to let me know he is in safety. The service which I have rendered him deserves that acknowledgment, at least.”
Such was his disquietude that he resolved to apply to Chupin, even though this traitor inspired him with extreme repugnance.