At first she could see nothing but a litter of boxes, bottles and waste paper, and then coming up one step at a time, she searched the recesses of the cavern one by one. A smoke-stained lantern burned dimly near the foot of the flight of steps, leading to the floor above, but there was no sign of any one watching. And so she emerged cautiously from the dark hole and stood up. In a moment she found what she was looking for. Huddled in the corner to her right, she made out the contours of a human figure. With another quick glance toward the steps and a moment to listen for any sound above, she approached noiselessly. He was trussed with a rope from head to foot, his hands tied behind him. But he was the man she sought. She bent over him, noticing his heavy breathing and the odor of the drug. At the touch of her hand he stirred slightly and she saw the blood upon his face.
"Monsieur!" she whispered quickly, "it is I—Piquette—and I have come to help you."
He stirred again and tried to move, but the drug was heavy in his blood. So she shook him furiously, trying to arouse him.
"It is Piquette," she whispered again.
His lips moved and his eyelids fluttered open. "Piquette——!" he muttered, and then breathed stertorously.
This was encouraging. She shook him again and again, fighting the lethargy. He moved and groaned. It seemed almost certain that his guardians must hear him.
"Sh——," she whispered, "Silence!"
Meanwhile she was struggling with the knots of the cord that bound his wrists. At last she managed to get his arms free and moved them backward and forward with all her strength, trying to restore his circulation. Then she unfastened the cords at his feet and pulled his knees up, thumping him from time to time and whispering at his ear.
"Wake up, Monsieur! You mus' get out of dis wit' me——"
His lips moved again. "Who——"