ea in his head he had ridden to this
chalk quarry. Of course, it must be the same chalk quarry into which
the underground passage of Grosbois opened, and no doubt during his
treasonable meetings with my uncle he had learned the secret. Twice I
hit upon the wrong spot, but at the third trial I gained the face of the
cliff, made my way between it and the bushes, and found the narrow
opening, which was hardly visible in the gathering darkness. During our
search Savary had overtaken us on foot, so now, leaving our horses in
the chalk-pit, my two companions followed me through the narrow entrance
tunnel, and on into the larger and older passage beyond. We had no
lights, and it was as black as pitch within, so I stumbled forward as
best I might, feeling my way by keeping one hand upon the side wall, and
tripping occasionally over the stones which were scattered along the
path. It had seemed no very great distance when my uncle had led the
way with the light, but now, what with the darkness, and what with the
uncertainty and the tension of our feelings, it appeared to be a long
journey, and Savary's deep voice at my elbow growled out questions as to
how many more miles we were to travel in this moleheap.

'Hush!' whispered Gerard. 'I hear someone in front of us.'

We stood listening in breathless silence. Then far away through the
darkness I heard the sound of a door creaking upon its hinges.

'On, on!' cried Savary, eagerly. 'The rascal is there, sure enough.
This time at least we have got him!'

But for my part I had my fears. I remembered that my uncle had opened
the door which led into the castle by some secret catch. This sound
which we had heard seemed to show that Toussac had also known how to
open it. But suppose that he had closed it behind him. I remembered
its size and the iron clampings which bound it together. It was
possible that even at the last moment we might find ourselves face to
face with an insuperable obstacle. On and on we hurried in the dark,
and then suddenly I could have raised a shout of joy, for there in the
distance was a yellow glimmer of light, only visible in contrast with
the black darkness which lay between. The door was open. In his mad
thirst for vengeance Toussac had never given a thought to the pursuers
at his heels.

And now we need no longer grope. It was a race along the passage and up
the winding stair, through the second door, and into the stone-flagged
corridor