As they were passing the doors which Nick had fastened on the outside he called Lafetre’s attention to them, touching the button of his pocket electric light in order to do so.
Lafetre nodded and smiled.
“They cannot get out,” he said, “unless they climb down by way of the vines; and so it was, I have no doubt, that you entered; no? In this room are the officers of the two vessels which do the smuggling. In that room yonder should be the captain of one of them. The other captain is ill. He is in England, where it is said he will die. He was wounded by a coast guard.”
“And the men—where are they?” asked Nick.
“They are below, monsieur; two floors. On what you would call the ground floor. Ah! that magic light of yours, monsieur. It is fine; but we do not require it now.”
They went on again, silently and swiftly. They turned through the corridor to the right as Lafetre had indicated, and then again toward the tower. Presently they arrived at the foot of a flight of winding, stone stairs, which led upward through the darkness, toward the summit of the tower. Here Nick touched the button of his light again and glanced at his watch.
“It is nine o’clock, Antoine,” he said.
“Yes, monsieur. At ten the count would retire, if we did not disturb him.”
“And the men? What do they do with themselves?”