But the rays of the lamp showed nothing--nothing beyond the bare walls of the shaft, built, as was the lower part of the house itself, of stone. And from up that shaft there came a cool, damp air, that made itself perceptible even as he sat dangling over it.
"For Heaven's sake, be careful," Valentin whispered. Then--in even a lower tone, added: "If he is there below--if he should be still there--he may spring out at you."
But Andrew, glancing at him from his perch on the bar, pointed over his shoulder to where his sword was braced on to his back perpendicularly, since, had it been by his side, it might have impeded his descent. Also he showed a pistol ready to his grasp.
"Have no fear," he said.
A moment later he was going down the rope hand over hand, the knots in it assisting his feet. And Valentin Debrasques, lying on the floor of the garret, face downwards, with his head over the edge of the oubliette, saw beneath him the flame of the lamp descending further and further. Andrew was now, he calculated, twenty feet below the opening where he himself was.
Then, suddenly, he heard him call up.
"He passed this way."
"You know that?"
"Ay. I know it now."
"How?"