“The saints forbid!” muttered Leoni. “Follow and attend the Comte. I will go on first and see.”
He glided on with extended hands, expecting momentarily to touch the King, but did not overtake him till the little landing was reached, where Francis was standing at the head of the flight of steps.
Leoni pressed past him and began to descend, holding his master once more by the hand, which he dropped as soon as they were at the foot, and then passed on rapidly with his pulses throbbing and in a state of ungovernable excitement such as he had not felt since the commencement of the adventure.
But this was of short duration. Schooled now by previous experience, Leoni ran his hand along close to the angle at the top of the wall upon his left, expecting moment by moment that it would come in contact with the ledge. He was quite right. It did, and glided into the niche, when a chill seized upon his heart and made it cease its heavy beat.
The niche was empty!
By the King’s orders the outer door must have been locked, and they were prisoners as fast as ever, unless some other scheme could be devised.
For a few brief moments Leoni gave way to despair. Then with an angry ejaculation he pressed on with extended hands, covered the few yards more that had to be passed before the door was reached, touched it, and swept his hands towards the lock, and once more no longer in full command of his faculties, he uttered a faint cry of joy.
The key was in the lock.