“Nonsense! I don't hang women. Speak! or my men will take your husband forth. Where is Bourbon hidden?”
“I can't tell,” she sobbed. “But if he is hidden anywhere, it must be in—in—the vault.”
“A plague upon your mischievous tongue!” cried her husband, reproachfully.
“Don't blame me, Benoit,” she cried. “I couldn't bear to see you hanged.”
“At last we have got the truth,” muttered Warthy. “I knew the woman wouldn't hold out. Show me the Way to the vault, madame.”
“I forbid you,” said Benoit, authoritatively.
“Take care what you are about, sirrah,” cried Warthy; “you will only make your own position worse. Now, madame!”
At this moment the trap-door, which had been elevated a few inches so as to allow the person beneath it to overhear what was going on in the room, suddenly fell with a clap, that attracted the attention of Warthy.
Snatching up the light, he flew in the direction of the noise, and instantly detected the trap-door. “Soh! I have found it!” he exclaimed. “Here is the entrance to the vault. Open this trap-door,” he added to his men.
The order being promptly obeyed, Madelon was discovered standing on the upper steps of the ladder.