My fingers inside the chest came in contact with nothing but rat-bitten papers, to my sad disappointment. But, having gone so far, I was moved to continue until I had patiently twisted a few documents out through the hole. I straightened and glanced at them. The edges were fretted by the rats. One writing was an account of moneys expended for various wines; another was a list of remedies for the diseases of horses; but the third, when I caught its meaning and saw the name signed at the end, made my heart jump. It was the last page of a letter, and ran thus:
"One thing is certain, by our careful exclusion of fools and weaklings, our plot is less liable to premature discovery than any of those which have hitherto been attempted, and, as you say, if we fail we have but to lock ourselves up in our chateaux till all blows over, the K. being so busy at present with the Dutch. In that event, my dear Count, the Chateau de Lavardin is a residence that some of the rest of us will envy you. Your servant ever,
"Collot d'Arniol."
The name was that of the chief mover of the late conspiracy, who had paid the penalty of his treason without betraying his accomplices. If this was indeed his signature, with which the authorities were certainly acquainted, the scrap of paper, were I free to carry it to Paris, would put the life of the Count de Lavardin in my hands.
To be possessed of such a weapon—such a means of rescuing the Countess from her fearful situation—and yet lack freedom wherein to use it, was too vexing for endurance. I resolved, rather than wait inactively for death with that weapon useless, to employ the most reckless means of escape. Meanwhile I pocketed the fragment of letter, and thrust the other papers back into the chest, which I then pushed to its former place.
After thinking awhile, I poured the water from the heavy earthen jug into the basin. I then sat down on the large chest, leaning forward, elbows upon knees, my head upon my hands, the empty jug beside me as if I had lazily left it there after drinking from it. In this attitude I waited through a great part of the afternoon, until I began to wonder if the Count was not going to send me any more food that day.
At last, when the sun was low, I heard my lock turned, the door opened into the room, and one of my new guards entered with a trencher of bread and cold meat. With the corner of my eye, I saw that nobody was immediately outside my door; so I assumed that my other guard, if there were still two, was stationed at the foot of the short flight of stairs leading to my room. The man with the food, having cast a look at me as I sat in my listless attitude, passed me in order to put the trencher on the other chest, which was further from the door.
The instant his back was toward me, I silently grasped the earthen jug, sprang after him, and brought the jug down upon the back of his head with all my strength while he was leaning forward to place the trencher. He staggered forward. I gave him a second blow, and he sprawled upon the chest, which stopped his fall.
I ran to the open door, pushed it almost shut, and waited behind it, the jug raised in both hands. My blows and the guard's fall had not been without noise.
"Hola! what's that?" cried somebody outside and a little below. I gave no answer, and presently I heard steps rapidly mounting to my door. Then the door was lightly pushed, but I stopped it; whereupon the head of my other guard was thrust in through the narrow opening. Down came my jug, and the man dropped to his hands and knees, in the very act of drawing his weapons. I struck him again, laying him prostrate. Then I dragged him into the room, and tried to wrest his dagger from his grasp. Finding this difficult, I ran back to the first guard, took his dagger from its sheath as he was beginning to come to, wielded my jug once more to delay his awakening, and, stepping over the second man's body, passed out of the room. The man with the trencher had left the key in the lock. I closed the door and turned the key, which I put in my pocket. I then hastened down the stairs, fled along the deserted passage, descended the main stairway to the story below, traversed without a moment's pause the rooms leading to the picture gallery, crossed that and found the door at the end unlocked, ran down the stairs of the Countess's former apartments, unlocked the door to the garden, and sped along the walk toward the postern. In all this, I had not seen a soul: I was carried forward by a bracing resolve to accomplish my escape or die in attempting it, as well as by an inspiriting faith in the saying of the Latin poet that fortune favours the bold, and by a feeling that for me everything depended on one swift, uninterrupted flight.