After waiting a little to make sure that the cook and his assistants had not been disturbed, he prepared to go farther afield. Creeping to the door that stood ajar, he pushed it a little. It moved with a creak which must surely, Jack thought, be heard all over the house. He waited breathlessly; there was no sound. But he could not risk a continuous creaking. Taking his courage in both hands he pushed the door quickly, stopping it with a jerk. It made never a sound. Jack saw by the light of a small lamp that it opened into a narrow passage, with a door at the end. He crept along the wall. The farther door was not closed. He peeped in. "The _salle à manger_!" he thought. There was the table at which the captain had entertained his guests. To the left there was another passage at right angles to the first. A narrow staircase led, he supposed, to the servants’ rooms. A few steps along the passage brought him to the entrance hall, from which sprang the main staircase. He looked up. He was at the bottom of a deep well, extending, it appeared, to the top of the mansion. He shrank back into the shade of the huge post at the foot of the stairs; for if the sentries outside the prisoners’ room chanced to hear a movement below and looked over, they would certainly see him. Then he cast back, and came to the back staircase. The steps were of stone; he might ascend without the danger of creaking; and he must see whither these stairs led. He went up the steps in pitch darkness, and found himself on a landing. Groping along the wall, he knew that he was in a stone-flagged corridor. Ah! at the end there was a streak of light. Tiptoeing along, he came to a door partly open. Dared he peep round it? He paused for a few seconds. "Hang it!" he said to himself, "I wish my heart wouldn’t thump so!" He listened: how these Frenchmen snored! Were they all asleep? He took a step forward; then felt a sudden unreasoning fear, and stole back for several yards. In a few seconds he had collected himself and returned to the door. Now he ventured to put his head into the room. A dozen men—he would have said a score at the first moment—were asleep on rough settles against the wall. They had their clothes on, as if in bivouac, ready for action at a moment’s notice. A smoky lamp hung from a bracket on the wall. In the corner of the fireplace, where there was a faint glow, were stacked the men’s muskets. The key of the room was on the inside. Having taken all this in at a glance, Jack carefully withdrew, returned along the passage and down the stairs, and arrived once more at the kitchen. Two sharp tugs at the rope brought Turley to his side; at short intervals the other three appeared. "All safe!" whispered Jack. "You’ve taken the things to Babbage, Turley?" "Ay, ay, sir." "That’s well. Now, Turley, that’s the cook’s room. You’ll stay and watch the door. If any one tries to break out, you’ll know what to do. You other men come with me."