ugh he were descending the scarp of a
fortification, and reached the flooring of the church, which was almost
wholly composed of mortuary stones.

The choir was empty, thanks to a rood-screen which protected it on one
side, and also to the walls which inclosed it to right and left.
The door of the screen was open and Roland entered the choir without
difficulty. He came face to face with the monument of Philippe le Beau.
At the head of the tomb was a large square flagstone. It covered the
steps which led to the burial vaults.

Roland must have known the way, for as soon as he reached the stone he
knelt down and felt with his hand for the edge of it. When he found it
he stood up, inserted his lever and raised the slab. With one hand he
held it up while he went down the steps. Then he lowered it slowly.
It seemed as though this nocturnal visitor were voluntarily separating
himself from the land of the living, and descending into the world of
the dead. And strange indeed to him, who sees by night as by day, on
the earth and beneath it, must the impassibility of this young man have
seemed, who passed among the dead in search of the living, and who,
in spite of darkness and solitude, did not shudder at the touch of the
mortuary marbles.

He walked on, feeling his way among the tombs, until he came to the iron
gate leading to the subterranean passage. He looked for the lock. It was
only bolted. He inserted the end of his lever between the bolt and the
staple, and pushed it gently. The gate opened. He drew it close after
him, but did not lock it, so as to avoid delay on his return. The
crowbar he left at the corner of the gate.

Then, with straining ears, dilated pupils, every sense tense with this
effort to hear, the need to breathe, the impossibility of seeing, he
advanced slowly, a pistol in one hand, touching the wall with the other
to guide himself. He walked thus for fifteen minutes. A few drops of
ice-cold water fell through the roof on his hands and shoulders, and
told him he was passing under the river.

At the end of this time he found the door which opened from the passage
into the quarry. There he halted a moment. He could now breathe more
freely, and, moreover, he fancied that he heard distant sounds, and
could see flickering lights, like will-o'-the-wisps, on the pillars that
supported the roof. An observer might have thought, not distinguishing
the face of the silent listener, that he showed hesitation; but