The light which I had seen from below hung in a flat-bottomed lantern just beyond the head of the stairs, and outside the entrance to one of two passages which appeared to lead to the back part of the house. Suspecting that M. de Bruhl’s business had lain with mademoiselle, I guessed that the light had been placed for his convenience. With this clue and the position of the window to guide me, I fixed on a door on the right of this passage, and scarcely four paces from the head of the stairs. Before I made any sign, however, I knelt down and ascertained that there was a light in the room, and also that the key was not in the lock.
So far satisfied, I scratched on the door with my finger-nails, at first softly, then with greater force, and presently I heard someone in the room rise. I felt sure that the person whoever it was had taken the alarm and was listening, and putting my lips to the keyhole I whispered mademoiselle’s name.
A footstep crossed the room sharply, and I heard muttering just within the door. I thought I detected two voices. But I was impatient, and, getting no answer, whispered in the same manner as before, ‘Mademoiselle de la Vire, are you there?’
Still no answer. The muttering, too, had stopped, and all was still—in the room, and in the silent house. I tried again. ‘It is I, Gaston de Marsac,’ I said. ‘Do you hear? I am come to release you.’ I spoke as loudly as I dared, but most of the sound seemed to come back on me and wander in suspicious murmurings down the staircase.
This time, however, an exclamation of surprise rewarded me, and a voice, which I recognised at once as mademoiselle’s, answered softly:
‘What is it? Who is there?’
‘Gaston de Marsac,’ I answered. ‘Do you need my help?’
The very brevity of her reply; the joyful sob which accompanied it, and which I detected even through the door; the wild cry of thankfulness—almost an oath—of her companion—all these assured me at once that I was welcome—welcome as I had never been before—and, so assuring me, braced me to the height of any occasion which might befall.
‘Can you open the door? I muttered. All the time I was on my knees, my attention divided between the inside of the room and the stray sounds which now and then came up to me from the hall below. ‘Have you the key?’
‘No; we are locked in,’ mademoiselle answered.