“Ah! They smoke, and gamble, and drink themselves into a stupor. By midnight they would be, for the most part, helpless.”
“Then why have you not sought such an opportunity to escape from the château?”
“There are always guards, monsieur. They are always on the watch. Once, when one of them slept at his post, Monsieur Jean discovered him, and shot him dead.”
“Indeed!” muttered the detective. “There is something of the sow’s ear about him, after all.”
“What was monsieur pleased to remark?”
“Lead on, Antoine. Let us lose no time.”
They went on in silence after that, winding up the stairs until it seemed to Nick that they should long ago have arrived at the summit of the tower. But at last Antoine paused before a door of solid oak, and, pointing at it, he said:
“Mademoiselle is there, monsieur. Monsieur Jean is with her. I think if you knock, he will open: and there is no other way of gaining admittance, for the door is solid. But if he will open—ah! Then we will enter before he has the opportunity to close it again. Is it not so? No? Yes!”
Nick Carter raised his hand and rapped loudly against the door.