The sound above stairs was growing more and more noisome, as if the monks were being pressed back in the direction of the secret passage.  ’Twas evident the Abbes intended this move; for unless there was egress ’twould be a veritable slaughter hole and from the first they had kept together, preferring the direction of retreat.

Suddenly one of the men in front of Buckingham leant down and traced with his finger on the dusty stone,—­

“They have moved it in this direction, and there is no mistaking it,” and he pointed from the ladder.

They followed the direction, holding the light low, and came at once upon what appeared to be a solid stone wall.  Inadvertently the man bearing the lighted taper rested his arm for a moment against the stones.  Instantly a blaze flared up and showed a very cleverly concocted wall.  A canvas had been padded in shape of unhewn stone and painted in imitation; the oil in the paint had ignited and despoiled the illusion.

The blaze was quenched in a moment, the canvas door pried open and the three men passed beyond, carefully closing the door behind them.

Buckingham was close upon them.

They fled rapidly along, Cantemir following his servants and ever glancing behind with eyes staring with fear.

Buckingham was not to be caught by fear-staring eyes and kept well in shadow.

The passage was narrow with many windings and appeared to be interminable.

The men began to run, which was very incautious under the circumstances, for in a moment they were precipitated into a small chamber occupied by two stalwart monks.  The latter had barely time to throw themselves upon the defensive ere they were attacked.

Cantemir had the advantage, as the monks were encumbered with their long robes.

Then ensued a short fight, in which Cantemir’s men won the day—­he remaining well in the background.

One of the servants was wounded and lay helpless upon the floor, his head falling against some object that held him in a semi-upright posture.  Cantemir turned with the torch he had taken from the floor, and looked about him, stumbling over the prostrate bodies of the monks as they lay wounded.  Noting his injured servant’s position, he ran to him, and seeing the thing upon which his head rested, kicked his body from the chest, as if the fellow had been his enemy’s dog, instead of his own serving man.

With a cudgel he and his comrade opened the chest, after first finding it too heavy to carry at speed and for an indefinite distance.

Cantemir’s eyes waxed big with greed and delight, as he looked within.  He spread out his long fingers, as if to grasp all the chest contained.

“These small caskets must be filled with jewels.  Anson, fasten the torch somehow and put these in the bags.  Here are some rare laces, looted from some dead Croesus, I warrant,—­put those in too;—­those infernal papers—­they can be of no consequence—­”