He made them all precede him, through a door so low that they had to stoop to enter it, into a dark cellar.
“You can’t see an inch before your face,” grumbled Rufus d’Estiers.
“That’s true,” said Ralph. “But here are some matches and I saw a candle-end on one of those steps into the cellars. Half a minute—I’ll run for it.”
He shut the door of the cellar, turned the key quietly, took it out of the door, and called out to his prisoners:
“Mind you light all the seven branches of the candlestick. You will find it under the last slab carefully wrapped up in spiders’ webs!”
Before he got outside the building he heard the five of them hammering furiously at the door. He was sure that, worm-eaten and shaky, it would hold out but a very few minutes. But that was all the time he wanted.
He rushed up on to the terrace. A workman was demolishing the fourth of the little brick pillars. Ralph took his pick from him, saying:
“Hand it over, mate. The proprietor has just told me what to do.”
“Shall I help you?” said the workman.
“There’s no need, thanks.”