The arrangements had been so carefully made that no one failed to appear at the rendezvous except Monsieur de Bois-Doré, whose absence was not noticed at first, all the confederates being divided into small groups, which held communication with each other in total darkness when they approached the mysterious ruin. The said ruin, being explored from roof to cellar, was found to be silent and empty. But they found traces of recent occupancy in that portion of the ground floor which the marquis had not dared to enter alone: hot embers in the fireplaces; rags and broken food on the floor. They had also discovered an underground passage, with an exit at a considerable distance from the house, outside the enclosure. Such passages existed in all feudal châteaux. They were almost all filled up at the time of our narrative; but the gypsies had cleared this one and masked the opening cleverly enough. They had carried their investigations no farther, not only because they deemed it useless, the enemy having already vanished, but because they were beginning to be alarmed about Monsieur de Bois-Doré and to scour the neighborhood for him. They were seriously alarmed when the little gypsy arrived and told her story. More time was wasted in serious perplexity. Monsieur Robin thought that the marquis had fallen into some ambuscade, and he persisted in searching for him; whereas Monsieur d'Ars, to whom the child's statements seemed not improbable, decided to start for Briantes with his following. An hour later, Monsieur Robin concluded to do likewise. When they had all ridden away, the farmer of Brilbault, who had received orders to continue the exploration of the château, had postponed the task to the following day, yielding to fatigue, as he said, and probably even more to a remnant of terror. "When the day broke I was there"--it is Jean Faraudet who is speaking,--"and after turning and pulling over all the old wood and rubbish from one end of the place to the other, I spied a little hole that I hadn't seen, and there I found a man bound faster than any sheaf of grain; for his hands and feet were tied, and his mouth gagged with a bunch of straw which was very cunningly twisted around his neck like a rope. So the man seemed to be dead from head to foot. I picked him up and carried him to my house, where a little brandy brought him to after I had untied him and rubbed him." "Who was the man?" inquired the marquis, thinking that it was D'Alvimar "you did not know him, did you?" "Yes, indeed, Monsieur Sylvain," replied the farmer; "I had seen him many a time. It was Monsieur Poulain, the rector of your parish. It was more than four hours before he could speak a word, because he had strained himself so in trying to struggle in his bonds. At last he said to us: "'I will not tell the authorities anything. I am not to blame for anything that may have happened; I swear by the holy oil and my baptism!'