"And with what did you contrive to make that?" inquired Dantès.
"With one of the clamps of my bedstead; and this very tool has sufficed me to hollow out the road by which I came hither, a distance of at least fifty feet."
"Fifty feet!" reëchoed Dantès, with a species of terror.
"Do not speak so loud, young man — don't speak so loud. It frequently occurs in a state prison like this that persons are stationed outside the doors of the cells purposely to overhear the conversation of the prisoners."
"But they believe I am shut up alone here."
"That makes no difference."
"And you say that you penetrated a length of fifty feet to arrive here?"
"I do; that is about the distance that separates your chamber from mine; only, unfortunately, I did not curve aright; for want of the necessary geometrical instruments to calculate my scale of proportion, instead of taking an ellipsis of forty feet, I have made fifty. I expected, as I told you, to reach the outer wall, pierce through it, and throw myself into the sea; I have, however, kept along the corridor on which your chamber opens, instead of going beneath it. My labor is all in vain, for I find that the corridor looks into a court-yard filled with soldiers."
"That's true," said Dantès; "but the corridor you speak of only bounds one side of my cell; there are three others — do you know anything of their situation?"
"This one is built against the solid rock, and it would take ten experienced miners, duly furnished with the requisite tools, as many years to perforate it. This adjoins the lower part of the governor's apartments, and were we to work our way through, we should only get into some lock-up cellars, where we must necessarily be recaptured. The fourth and last side of your cell looks out — looks out — stop a minute; now, where does it open to?"
The side which thus excited curiosity was the one in which was fixed the loop-hole by which the light was admitted into the chamber. This loop-hole, which gradually diminished as it approached the outside, until only an opening through which a child could not have passed, was, for better security, furnished with three iron bars, so as to quiet all apprehensions even in the mind of the most suspicious jailer as to the possibility of a prisoner's escape. As the stranger finished his self-put question, he dragged the table beneath the window.
"Climb up," said he to Dantès.
The young man obeyed, mounted on the table, and, divining the
