“Your scarf!” I called to Fronsac, and snatched it from him. “Now help me here,” and we twisted Roquefort’s arms behind him like a baby’s and lashed them tight together. Then I set him down on the lowest step,--a horrible sight, the blood caked in his hair and about his face, drivelling, cursing, half-conscious. I could guess what an effort it had cost him to drag himself down the stair and give the alarm, and I found myself beginning to admire him. I turned again to the door in an agony of despair. To be caught here like rats in a trap, with success so near! But to penetrate this door! I saw Fronsac draw Mademoiselle to him and hold her close against his breast. They had abandoned hope, then! I looked at Roquefort with fiery eyes, hating him suddenly with a white hate. “At least,” I said between my teeth, “you will be dead long ere they reach us here. That shall be your reward for calling them. I swear that, assassin!” He seemed to understand, and glared at me fiercely. “This way! Rescue!” he shouted hoarsely. His voice was drowned in this cavern where we were, but as if in answer there came another great crash upon the tower door above us. It seemed for a moment that Roquefort’s scoundrels must be tumbling down the stair upon us. But the door held, and as I remembered how strongly it was built, I knew it would be no little task to break it through. The crash was repeated as we stood there listening--then a third time. I fancied I could hear the door splitting under this determined onslaught. Fronsac and Mademoiselle had forgotten all the world except each other. He strained her to him and stood looking down into her eyes, drinking in all the love they revealed to him unquestioningly in this last, desperate moment, whose terror banished coquetry. Had I Claire so, I too might have been content to die. Again came the crash upon the door, and again my eyes sought Roquefort’s face. And then in an instant I remembered! What a fool I had been not to think of it before! Pray Heaven it was not already too late! The keys! I sprang upon him, merciless as a wolf, and with savage hands tore his doublet from his breast. He seemed to understand what I was after, and spat at me like some mad thing and tried to throw me off, then sank back exhausted, his lips white with froth. In a moment my fingers had found a chain about his neck. I dragged it forth, and at the end were two keys. So the fox had kept always by him a secret means of escape from his den should the other fail him! I lifted the chain from his neck and the keys were mine. For a breath my hands were trembling so I could scarce hold them, but I gripped my manhood back to me and turned to the door. Were they the keys? They must be! I fitted them to the holes--they slipped in easily--the bolts flew back--the door opened.