“‘HERE—IS THE HOLE HE CUT THROUGH INTO THE PRIEST’S CELL.’”
They went up the broad, heavy stairs to the gallery, and the Captain paused before a door that was marked “Louis-Philippe, 1792.”
“Hello!” Kit cried; “did they have Louis-Philippe in here? Why, he was one of the kings of France!”
“This was not the king, if I remember rightly,” the Captain replied, “but the Duke of Orleans, and father of the king of the same name. You will see a very different cell here from Monte Cristo’s, if the door is not locked.”
The huge door opened readily, and they stepped into a large and lofty room, moderately well lighted by a window that overlooked the court, but that was not quite wide enough to offer a chance of escape. The stone floor and heavy stone walls gave the apartment, to be sure, something of the air of a prison; but it was eighteen or twenty feet square, and on one side was a handsome fireplace, with a broad stone seat on each side, and a carved mantel of stone that evidently had once been a work of art, but that was badly chipped and broken by time, perhaps with the assistance of some of the royal prisoners. When they looked up the chimney, through which they had a glimpse of the scudding clouds, they saw that although the opening was nearly four feet across, it was not more than five or six inches wide, so that a prisoner could not escape through it.
“You see they had better quarters for their distinguished prisoners than they gave to poor sailors like Monte Cristo,” the Captain said. “Just imagine this room fitted up with rugs and hangings and handsome furniture, as no doubt it was when Louis-Philippe occupied it. A man could hardly want a better place. There are more such rooms on this tier, that you can look at later on. Some of them were occupied by Albert del Campo, Bernardot, a rich armorer of Marseilles who was mixed up with the Duc de Richelieu. The Man in the Iron Mask, the Count de Mirabeau, the Abbé Peretti, and a great many more famous men of their times. Now if you want a good view of the bay, come up to the top of the tower.”
The Captain led the way up the iron stairs of the tower, all the others following. But before Kit and Harry Leonard, who brought up the rear, reached the top, they heard an exclamation of surprise from the Captain, who hurriedly began to descend the steps.
“Make for the boat, boys, as fast as you can!” he cried. “The wind has shifted, and the sea is tumbling in on that side hard enough to break her to pieces. We must get her further up in a hurry, or we’ll lose a good boat.”
The party made a scramble down the stairs, across the court, and down the rough steps outside, then along the jagged rocks, till they reached the boat, which, by their united strength, was soon dragged out of reach of the waves. But the spot where they had landed in comparatively smooth water was now beaten by heavy seas that wet them with their spray.