By this time, Craig had come to a small open chamber into which the sewer widened. On the wall he found another series of iron rungs up which he climbed. The gas was terrible.
As he neared the top of the ladder, he came to a shelf-like aperture in the sewer chamber, and gazed about. It was horribly dark. He reached out and felt a piece of cloth. Anxiously he pulled on it. Then he reached further into the darkness.
There was Elaine, unconscious, apparently dead.
He shook her, endeavoring to wake her up. But it was no use.
In desperation Craig carried her down the ladder.
With our prisoner, we could only look helplessly around. Again and again I looked at my watch as the minutes lengthened. Suppose the oxygen gave out?
"By George, I'm going down after him," I cried in desperation.
"Don't do it," advised the policeman. "You'll never get out."
One whiff of the horrible gas told me that he was right. I should not have been able to go fifty feet in it. I looked at him in despair. It was impossible.
"Listen," said the policeman, straining his ears.