The clink of spurs resounded on the flags; he heard the sharp clink of the rifle as the guard presented arms.
Trembling, the baron sprang up, saying: "They have come at last!" He was mistaken; the footsteps died away in the distance.
"A round of inspection!" he murmured.
But at the same moment, two objects thrown through the tiny opening in the door of his cell fell on the floor in the middle of the room.
M.d'Escorval caught them up.

Someone had thrown him two files.
His first feeling was one of distrust.

He knew that there were jailers who left no means untried to dishonor their prisoners before delivering them to the executioner.
Was it a friend, or an enemy, that had given him these instruments of deliverance and of liberty.
Chanlouineau's words and the look that accompanied them recurred to his mind, perplexing him still more.
He was standing with knitted brows, turning and returning the fine and well-tempered files in his hands, when he suddenly perceived upon the floor a tiny scrap of paper which had, at first, escaped his notice.
He snatched it up, unfolded it, and read: "Your friends are at work.

Everything is prepared for your escape.

Make haste and saw the bars of your window.