Yakovkin rejoined them; he gave the Duke a big ball of twine and an electric torch. “Take these,” he whispered, huskily; “the caves run for many versts, twisting and turning, one upon another. If you are lost there it will be death... you would starve before you could get out.”
“Which way are we to go?” asked the Duke.
“To the left and to the left and to the left,” Yakovkin answered. “That will bring you to a great hall with many passages. Take that which is second to the right of the altar; after, once to the left again. You will come out in the cellars of the old fort. Outside your friends wait you with a car.”
“To the left three times... the second passage on the right of the altar... after that once to the left again,” De Richleau repeated.
“Tie the twine to a stone where the tunnel ends,” Yakovkin went on. “Unroll it as you go — thus, if you lose your way, you can work back to the beginning and start again.”
“Good,” said the Duke. “Yakovkin, how can I ever thank you for this help?”
“I would have done as much before, Barin” said the man, simply, giving the Duke his old title, “but without Shubin I could do nothing.”
“Will you not get into serious trouble?”
Yakovkin shrugged. “A month or two in prison, perhaps, Barin — that is not much for one such as I... for the sake of our youth I would do that, but I must tell you also that I have been well paid.”
“I’m glad of that — if we get away I’ll send you through the consulate a token of my gratitude from London.”