Walking slowly round the mill, the knight felt for the opening, till he stumbled over a low stone step. Cautiously ascending, he found at the fourth step a flat ledge, protected by a broken rail, and here was the door hanging by a solitary rusted hinge.
TREACHERY AFOOT
Yielding to the pressure of his shoulder, the door flew open, and the knight and his companion carefully groped their way in, closing the door after them. Here, in absolute blackness, they found shelter, the storm howling wildly outside, yet scarcely to be heard within the massive stone walls. They had no means of procuring a light, but by continuing their investigations they felt a pile of broken hurdles and the lower-most rungs of a ladder.
Raymond was about to ascend, when his servant laid a detaining hand upon his arm. "Hist!" he exclaimed. "Some one moves in the room above."
"Nay, thou dreamest!... Ay, thou art right! Hide here, quickly. Art armed?"
"Nought but a knife."
"'Twill suffice. Now, hold thyself in readiness, but act not till I give the word."
Crouching behind the pile of hurdles, knight and servant waited in breathless silence. There was the sound of a heavy trap-door being raised, and a voice exclaimed in French: "Is it thou, Jehan?"
Receiving no reply, the questioner slowly descended a few steps of the ladder, and drawing a horn lantern from underneath a cloak, swung it around him, peering about the room.