Without the loss of a moment Marie fitted it into the padlock which secured the great bunch to his waistband of steel. In another instant they were in her possession. Then, opening the door on the left, which had been left unlocked, when she brought the water-pitcher, she sped down the passage in the direction of the round tower, in which she knew Wat to be confined.
But when she thought that she must be approaching the place, she found a number of cell-doors. Marie felt that it would not do to make any mistake. Once more her quick wits aided her, as they had already done that night to some purpose.
"Visiting rounds!" she cried, in a hoarse voice, as she had heard the guard do at the posts; "the name of the prisoner detained within?"
But she had tried quite a dozen before she heard the welcome sound of Wat Gordon's voice, speaking from the pallet on which he had been lying thinking of Kate, weary and sleepless.
Swiftly she tried key after key. The fourth grated in the lock and stuck. But the Little Marie thrust the stem of a larger key through the handle, and, setting her knee to the panel and putting all her strength into her hands, she turned the wards of the lock. The door swung to the wall of its own accord, and there lay Wat on his bed.
He leaped to his feet with a startled exclamation when he saw her.
"Marie!" he cried, "what do you here?"
"Hush!" she said, "I am here to save you. Come!"
And carefully locking the door of the cell behind them, they stole along the passage. Black Peter still slept in the outer hall, nodding and swaying stertorously on the settle, and there was no other sound save the breathing of the resting prisoners. Without, the street was still, Peter's lieutenant being busy carrying out his instructions at the excellent Hostel of the Cheese of Gouda.
Marie opened the huge bolted door, closed and locked it, threw the key into the canal, and the pair glided silently and unmolested down the street.