“Where is the secret door into the dungeon?” he demanded.
“Hold up the lantern to the corner on your right hand, you will discern the iron which covers the spring,” replied the Marquis.
“So far so good.—Where does the passage lead to?”
“To my private apartment behind the tapestry,” answered the prostrate nobleman.
“From thence how shall I reach the gateway?”
“Through the grand gallery, the anteroom, the lackeys’ waiting hall, the grand guardroom—”
“All crowded with soldiers, factionaries, and attendants?—that will never do for me, my lord;—have you no secret passage to the gate, as you have to your dungeons? I have seen such in Germany.”
“There is a passage through the chapel,” said the Marquis, “opening from my apartment.”
“And what is the pass-word at the gate?”
“The sword of Levi,” replied the Marquis; “but if you will receive my pledge of honour, I will go with you, escort you through every guard, and set you at full liberty with a passport.”