Here we found Madame on tiptoe with excitement and curiosity.
“Where are you going? What is the matter?” she asked, quickly.
“None of your business!” roared her husband, with his usual brutality.
“Only into the vault to look for stores.” I answered, throwing as much feeling into the commonplace answer as was possible.
Prévost provided himself with a lanthorn and led the way through the passage and down the steps leading to the cellars, muttering and scolding to himself, for he dared not make a complaint to which I might reply, until we reached the outer door. This he unlocked, and I discovered a long passage, evidently underground, for the air struck me as damp and chill as we traversed it, to the entrance of the principal vault, which he opened.
“There! See for yourself if I have not told the truth. It is as empty as death!” and as he spake he held the lanthorn high.
Bat this did not satisfy me. I was determined to take nothing for granted until I had personally proved the truth of his protestations.
“Give me the light,” I said, taking it from him as I entered.
“Willingly.” he replied; but I had not taken a dozen steps before I heard a clang, the quick turn of a key, and found I was a prisoner, trapped like a rat by the man I most hated and despised.
At first I was inclined to laugh, for the turn was not without its cleverness, but the inclination was quickly stifled as I realized what such a situation might mean to one in my position.