"I do not believe it," said one of the men who had been confined in the "Church." He indicated with his finger. "There is a mal-pas yonder; he has escaped along that."
A mal-pas, in fact, exists in many of these rock castles. It consists of a track sometimes natural, often artificially cut in the face of the cliff, so narrow that only a man with an unusually steady head can tread it; often is the mal-pas so formed that it cannot be walked along upright, but in a bent posture. Often also it is cut through abruptly and purposely to be crossed by a board which he who has fled over it can kick down and so intercept pursuit.
"Bring up the men for me to judge them," said Ogier, "and you, Mathieu, give me your sharp-pointed pick."
The man addressed handed the implement to his Seigneur, who seated himself on the floor of rock with his legs apart and extended.
"Giraud!" said Ogier, "and you, Roland, run out a beam through one of the windows—through yonder, and one of you find rope—abundance. How many are here?"
"There are twelve," was the answer.
"That is well; twelve—enough rope to hang twelve men, one after another from the window."
Sufficiency of rope was not to be found.
"It matters not," said Ogier. "There are other ways into another world than along a rope. They shall walk the beam. Thrust it through the window and rope the end of it."
"Which end?"