I stretched out my uninjured hand. In an instant we were in darkness, and I knew that he had exchanged the torch for his revolver.
"Come on," he whispered, and we started forward.
At the foot of the stair we paused for a moment, listening; but no sound came from above. We mounted a step, two steps, three——
Suddenly I felt a convulsive pressure on my hand. From above came a quick succession of sharp taps, as of some one rapping with his knuckles upon the wall. It rose, fell, rose again——
Involuntarily we retreated to the foot of the stair and took refuge against the farther wall. The light flashed out again, and I saw Godfrey mopping his face with his handkerchief. As for myself, I was fairly bathed in perspiration.
"What was it?" I asked hoarsely.
"I don't know," Godfrey answered, in the same tone. "But I know one thing—if we stay down here much longer, we'll both of us lose our nerve completely. I'm going to make a dash for it," and he started for the cellar steps.
I followed him, clenching my teeth convulsively.
But again a sound from overhead stopped us—a quick step across the floor, the opening of a door, and then a scream so shrill, so agonised, that it made my heart stand still.
"Come on!" cried Godfrey, and dashed up the stair.