It was evidently impossible to fight in a chamber which was blocked by a great table.  We followed him out, therefore, into the dimly-lit hall.  At the farther end a light was shining through an open door.

‘We shall find what we want in here,’ said the man with the dark beard.  It was a large, empty room, with rows of barrels and cases round the walls.  A strong lamp stood upon a shelf in the corner.  The floor was level and true, so that no swordsman could ask for more.  Duroc drew his sabre and sprang into it.  The Baron stood back with a bow and motioned me to follow my companion.  Hardly were my heels over the threshold when the heavy door crashed behind us and the key screamed in the lock.  We were taken in a trap.

For a moment we could not realize it.  Such incredible baseness was outside all our experiences.  Then, as we understood how foolish we had been to trust for an instant a man with such a history, a flush of rage came over us, rage against his villainy and against our own stupidity.  We rushed at the door together, beating it with our fists and kicking with our heavy boots.  The sound of our blows and of our execrations must have resounded through the Castle.  We called to this villain, hurling at him every name which might pierce even into his hardened soul.  But the door was enormous—­such a door as one finds in mediaeval castles—­made of huge beams clamped together with iron.  It was as easy to break as a square of the Old Guard.  And our cries appeared to be of as little avail as our blows, for they only brought for answer the clattering echoes from the high roof above us.  When you have done some soldiering, you soon learn to put up with what cannot be altered.  It was I, then, who first recovered my calmness, and prevailed upon Duroc to join with me in examining the apartment which had become our dungeon.

There was only one window, which had no glass in it, and was so narrow that one could not so much as get one’s head through.  It was high up, and Duroc had to stand upon a barrel in order to see from it.

‘What can you see?’ I asked.

‘Fir-woods and an avenue of snow between them,’ said he.  ‘Ah!’ he gave a cry of surprise.

I sprang upon the barrel beside him.  There was, as he said, a long, clear strip of snow in front.  A man was riding down it, flogging his horse and galloping like a madman.  As we watched, he grew smaller and smaller, until he was swallowed up by the black shadows of the forest.

‘What does that mean?’ asked Duroc.

‘No good for us,’ said I.  ’He may have gone for some brigands to cut our throats.  Let us see if we cannot find a way out of this mouse-trap before the cat can arrive.’