"Heaven must have sent you that vision," he said, with fervent gratitude. "Oh, how glad I am that I shall go free again into the world! I have sweet, young sisters little older than you, my child, who would grieve for me were I to die like this. Are you sure, quite sure, that you possess the secret of the opening of the hidden door?"
Marie started.
"It must be the same as that of the outside—must it not, monsieur?" she queried, with a confident air.
"I am not sure, but I hope it is," he replied, with a sudden dawning anxiety.
"I will go and see at once," she exclaimed, starting toward the door.
"No, no," he said, and held her back.
"But why?" she asked, turning on him her pretty, puzzled face.
With a smile, he answered:
"Do you not see that it would not be safe to venture to open the door while our enemies remain in the house? We must wait patiently here until night—until they are gone away. Then we shall be able to effect our escape unmolested."
He spoke more cheerfully than he felt. A strange dread was upon him. What if they should not be able to open the door at the head of the cellar stair-way?