At the end of ten minutes he again passed under the river; a couple of minutes later, his outstretched hand touched the iron gate.
He took the crowbar from the place where he had left it, entered the vault, pulled the gate to, closed it gently and noiselessly, and, guiding himself by the tombs, he regained the staircase, pushed up the flagstone with his head, and stood once more in the land of the living.
There it was comparative daylight.

He left the choir, closed the door of the screen as he had found it, scaled the hay, crossed the platform, and slid down the other side.

The key was still in his pocket.

He unlocked the door and stepped out into the street.
The captain of gendarmerie was anxiously awaiting him.

They conferred together for a few moments, and then they returned to Bourg by the outer road to avoid being seen.