“’Twas most admirably noted, Senhor,” he said. “Take good heart now; and lead the way.” The Spaniard, without making a reply, hereupon stepped forward, and preceded Hildebrand up a contiguous flight of steps. On reaching the summit, they found themselves in a short passage, which was crossed, a little higher up, by another passage, running the whole length of the gaol. Glancing up the passage on his right hand, Hildebrand distinguished the gaol-door; and on one side of this, in the wall of the passage, the open door of the guard-chamber. A flood of light issued from the latter doorway; and the necessity for their own light being thus superseded, Hildebrand signed to his companion, who was waiting his directions, to lay it down. He then waved him to the rear, and, with a cautious but unhesitating step, led the way himself. All was quiet. But the guard-chamber, if the light were any evidence, was no doubt tenanted, and probably by more persons than one. It is true, it was close to the door; but its proximity, far from being advantageous, was rather adverse to a clandestine egress, and, as the door of the chamber was wide open, to pass it unobserved was almost beyond their hopes. Even should they be able to accomplish this object, they had still to open the gaol-door, which, at the least, was well secured with bolts, and might possibly be locked. Hildebrand was fully alive to these varied difficulties. After he had once stepped forward, however, he did not pause, but pursued his way undaunted. They passed along on tiptoe. They ordered their movements so noiselessly, that the silence, unbroken by their progress, rang in their ears, and they could almost hear the beat of their own hearts. A few paces brought them in a line with the door, and Hildebrand, emboldened by the prevailing stillness, ventured to peep round. In a line with the door, on the further side of the chamber, was a fire; but the smoke which issued from it passed pretty regularly through the chimney-hole in the roof, and the view, though clouded, was no way broken. A man stood before the fire, warming one of his hands; and though he had his back to the door, a lighted lamp which hung from the roof, about midway across, enabled Hildebrand to observe that he was armed. Indeed, one of his hands, which was thrown back from the fire, clasped the barrel of a caliver, the butt of which rested on the floor; and even if he had no other weapon, he was in this invincible. As Hildebrand observed his disposition, he mechanically raised his pistol, and levelled it at his head. But, though self-preservation is an overpowering impulse, the truly brave heart, however excited, will always shrink from a sacrifice of life; and Hildebrand had scarcely extended his pistol when he drew it back. Still holding the pistol in his hand, he placed the other hand, which he had at liberty, on the arm of his companion, and passed that person towards the gaol-door.