“Oh, they would not take that trouble,” observed O’Grady. “If they had wished to treat us ill, they would have done so.”
Three more days passed. The moon did not now rise till nearly midnight. This would give them ample time to get away out of sight of land before daylight. That evening their friend brought, with other provisions, a small keg of water, and a bottle of brandy, which he placed under the sails, and nodding, took his departure.
“No time to be lost,” said O’Grady; “as soon as our guard has paid us his last visit, we must commence operations.”
Just before dark a gendarme as usual put his head in at the door, looked round the room, and then stamped down-stairs again to a guard-room, in which it seemed that three or four men were stationed.
“There is no time to be lost, if it is to be done, gentlemen,” exclaimed Reuben, stumping about the room as soon as the man was gone. “If we can’t get through a window, I have marked two or three spots where we can through the roof, and we’ve rope enough to help us out either way. We have first to make up some packs to carry our stores.”
It was important to do all this while daylight remained, now fast fading away. The packs were soon made, and the various lengths of rope fastened together. Reuben then, with the aid of his younger companions, climbed up to the roof, and, without difficulty, pulled down first the wooden lining, and then the slates, which he handed to them to avoid making a noise, and soon had a hole large enough for them to get through. The slates and ropes and their packs were then hid under the straw, in case any one should visit them before the hour of starting, not that such an event was likely to occur. They then threw themselves on their beds to be ready to pretend to be asleep at a moment’s notice. The hours passed slowly. The night was calm; that was fortunate, or any little wind there was came from the south, which was better. They could hear a clock strike, that probably on the tower of the little church attached to the château. It was already nine o’clock, and they thought that all chance of interruption was over, when they heard steps on the stairs. The sergeant and a guard entered. He held a lantern in his hand. They lay trembling lest the light should be thrown upwards, and the hole in the roof be discovered.
“They seem to be asleep,” observed the sergeant; “it is wonderful what power of sleeping these Englishmen possess. However, I must awake them. Rouse up, my boys, and understand that you are to march to-morrow for Paris at an early hour; but the worthy citizen Montauban has directed me to say that he will supply you with funds for your necessary maintenance, and to enable you to make your defence should you be accused, as he fears you may be, of being spies.”
Paul started up on hearing this address, with as much terror as he could assume, considering that he had hoped in a few hours to be out of the reach of all French myrmidons of the law, and in a few words thanked the citizen Montauban for his kind purpose, adding that a French midshipman of the same name had long been his companion.
“Undoubtedly a nephew of citizen Montauban’s, and his heir. The young man was long supposed to be lost; but he was here a short time back, and it is owing to the kind way he was treated by the English, that the old gentleman takes so warm an interest in you. However, lie down; I will tell him what you say, and he will communicate with you to-morrow, unless something should occur to prevent him. Good night.”
“I hope that something will occur,” cried Paul, jumping up as soon as the officer was gone. “Very kind of the old gentleman, and just like Alphonse to interest his uncle in our favour.”