We could not stand it much longer.

We would have to lay down our chair legs and surrender.
Then a very strange thing happened.
Le Marchant saw it first and grabbed my arm.
The portion of the blazing bedstead nearest the wall sank down through the floor and disappeared, and at a glance we saw our way, though how far it might lead us we could not tell.
"Allons!" said Le Marchant, and without a moment's hesitation leaped down into the smoke that came rolling up out of the hole, and I followed.
We landed on barrels and kegs covered with blazing embers.

Le Marchant gave a laugh at sight of their familiar faces, and, by way of further payment to the miller, dashed his heel through the head of a keg and sped on, while the flames roared out afresh behind us.
For a short way we had the light of the blaze, but soon we were past it and groping in darkness down a narrow tunnel way.

It seemed endless, but fresh blowing air came puffing up to us at last, and of a sudden we crept out into the night through a clump of gorse on the side of a cliff.

Below us was the sea, and on the shingle lay a six-oared galley such as the preventive men use.
"Devil's luck!" laughed Le Marchant, and we slipped and rolled down the cliff to the shore, with never a doubt as to our next move.