"I don’t want to go where we’re likely to fall," cried Robineau; "go ahead, concierge, and guide us."
Cunette went forward, hugging the wall. They reached the door of the tower, whence a dark, narrow, winding staircase led to the rooms above.
"I should think that I was in the Castle of Udolpho," said Edouard as he ascended the stairs.
"I expect every moment to see a cavalier armed at all points," said Alfred.
Robineau said nothing; he was examining the old walls, blackened by time, which had seen the coming and going of so many generations. When the concierge attempted to open the door of the first floor, it shrieked on its hinges and the sound echoed through the empty apartments of the old tower.
"You must put oil on all these doors, concierge," said Robineau; "I don’t like that noise. Where are we? Are there trapdoors under our feet? Be careful to warn us."
"No, monsieur, this was the chevalier’s room, so they say."
"What chevalier?"
"Why! the chevalier who was the old dowager’s nephew, so far as I can understand."
"I won’t take it for my room, it’s too dark."