Nevertheless, he had a few seconds of anxiety when he perceived, by the sound of the materials falling, that this part of the tunnel was also under water, which was natural, as the door did not form a sufficiently tight-fitting barrier. But what did it matter! The outlet was free. One last effort . . . he passed through. "Come, Gourel," he cried, returning to fetch his companion. He dragged him, half dead, by the wrists: "Come along, booby, pull yourself together! We are saved." "Do you really think so, chief? . . . The water's up to our chests. . . ." "Never mind, as long as it's not over our mouths. . . . Where's your lantern?" "It's not working." "No matter." He gave an exclamation of delight. "One step . . . two steps! . . . A staircase. . . . At last!" They emerged from the water, that accursed water which had almost swallowed them up; and it was a delicious sensation, a release that sent up their spirits. "Stop!" said M. Lenormand. His head had knocked against something. With arms outstretched, he pushed against the obstacle, which yielded at once. It was the flap of a trap-door; and, when this trap-door was opened, he found himself in a cellar into which the light of a fine night filtered through an air-hole. He threw back the flap and climbed the last treads. Then a veil fell over his eyes. Arms seized upon him. He felt himself as it were wrapped in a sheet, in a sort of sack, and then fastened with cords. "Now for the other one!" said a voice. The same operation must have been performed on Gourel; and the same voice said: "If they call out, kill them at once. Have you your dagger?" "Yes." "Come along. You two, take this one . . . you two, that one. . . . No light . . . and no noise either. . . . It would be a serious matter. They've been searching the garden next door since this morning . . . there are ten or fifteen of them knocking about. . . . Go back to the house, Gertrude, and, if the least thing happens, telephone to me in Paris." M. Lenormand felt that he was being lifted up and carried and, a moment after, that he was in the open air. "Bring the cart nearer," said a voice. M. Lenormand heard the sound of a horse and cart. He was laid out on some boards. Gourel was hoisted up beside him. The horse started at a trot. The drive lasted about half an hour. "Halt!" commanded the voice. "Lift them out. Here, driver, turn the cart so that the tail touches the parapet of the bridge. . . . Good. . . . No boats on the river? Sure? Then let's waste no time. . . . Oh, have you fastened some stones to them?" "Yes, paving-stones." "Right away, then! Commend your soul to God, M. Lenormand, and pray for me, Parbury-Ribeira, better known by the name of Baron Altenheim. Are you ready? All right? Well, here's wishing you a pleasant journey, M. Lenormand!" M. Lenormand was placed on the parapet. Someone gave him a push. He felt himself falling into space and he still heard the voice chuckling: "A pleasant journey!"