But he possessed a marvellous power of will, which prevented him from attempting any violent effort. Prudently, but with determined energy, he screwed his feet and his knees into the crevices of the rock, feeling with his hands for some point of support, and gradually sinking to one side, he finally succeeded in dragging himself from the verge of the precipice. It was time, for a cramp seized him with such violence that he was obliged to sit down and rest for a moment. That the baron had been killed by his fall, Bavois did not doubt for an instant. But this catastrophe did not produce much effect upon the old soldier, who had seen so many comrades fall by his side on the field of battle. What did _amaze_ him was the breaking of the rope--a rope so large that one would have supposed it capable of sustaining the weight of ten men like the baron. As he could not, by reason of the darkness, see the ruptured place, Bavois felt it with his finger; and, to his inexpressible astonishment, he found it smooth. No filaments, no rough bits of hemp, as usual after a break; the surface was perfectly even. The corporal comprehended what Maurice had comprehended below. “The scoundrels have cut the rope!” he exclaimed, with a frightful oath. And a recollection of what had happened three or four hours previous arose in his mind. “This,” he thought, “explains the noise which the poor baron heard in the next room! And I said to him: ‘Nonsense! it is a rat!’” Then he thought of a very simple method of verifying his conjectures. He passed the cord about the crowbar and pulled it with all his strength. It parted in three places. This discovery appalled him. A part of the rope had fallen with the unfortunate baron, and it was evident that the remaining fragments tied together would not be long enough to reach to the base of the rock. From this isolated ledge it was impossible to reach the ground upon which the citadel was built. “You are in a fine fix, Corporal,” he growled. Honest Bavois looked the situation full in the face, and saw that it was desperate. “Well, Corporal, your jig is up!” he murmured, “At daybreak they will find that the baron’s cell is empty. They will poke their heads out of the window, and they will see you here, like a stone saint upon his pedestal. Naturally, you will be captured, tried, condemned; and you will be led out to take your turn in the ditches. Ready! Aim! Fire! And that will be the end of your story.” He stopped short. A vague idea had entered his mind, which he felt might possibly be his salvation. It came to him in touching the rope which he had used in his descent from the prison to the ledge, and which, firmly attached to the bars, hung down the side of the tower.