enormous lock. Duroc sank upon one of the boxes with his head between
his hands. He sobbed in his despair. I could have sobbed, too, when I
thought of the woman and how helpless we were to save her.

But I am not easily baffled. After all, this key must have been sent to
us for a purpose. The lady could not bring us that of the door, because
this murderous step-father of hers would most certainly have it in his
pocket. Yet this other must have a meaning, or why should she risk her
life to place it in our hands? It would say little for our wits if we
could not find out what that meaning might be.

I set to work moving all the cases out from the wall, and Duroc, gaining
new hope from my courage, helped me with all his strength. It was no
light task, for many of them were large and heavy. On we went, working
like maniacs, slinging barrels, cheeses, and boxes pell-mell into the
middle of the room. At last there only remained one huge barrel of
vodka, which stood in the corner. With our united strength we rolled it
out, and there was a little low wooden door in the wainscot behind it.
The key fitted, and with a cry of delight we saw it swing open before
us. With the lamp in my hand, I squeezed my way in, followed by my
companion.

We were in the powder-magazine of the Castle--a rough, walled cellar,
with barrels all round it, and one with the top staved in in the centre.
The powder from it lay in a black heap upon the floor. Beyond there was
another door, but it was locked.

'We are no better off than before,' cried Duroc. 'We have no key.'

'We have a dozen!' I cried.