"In any case, I laid hold of the lever and pulled. It moved a little, but only a little. I pulled again, harder. A rasping noise followed, either from the lever's mechanism or from under the trap-door. Then I laid hold, blind-determined, and put out all my weight with both hands. And the trap fell.
"With luck there would have been no more than a heavy creak. But the right-hand trap-door, too heavy for its old hinges, ripped loose and fell into the pit with a crash which seemed to bring down the roof."
Martin Drake stared at the past.
The crash which had roused him out of sleep — loud, yet not very loud because it was muffled by a heavy oak door and the inside of the pit — the crash which had roused him, at two o'clock, was just that
But Stannard was speaking again.
"If I had expected a noise," he said, "I never expected a noise like that. It dazed me. Immediately afterwards," he turned his head towards Martin for a brief look, "my friend Drake called out from the grille of the iron door 'Stannard!' And them 'Stannard! Are you all right?' I shouted back, 'Yes! Quite!' Though I fear my voice showed — never mind.
"While I was tugging at the lever, I had put down my lamp on the floor. Now, in not quite the best state of mind, I went over to the edge, and turned the beam of the lamp down into the pit. It was square in shape, a brick-lined shaft much bigger than the oblong trap."
Stannard paused.
"Well, Mr. Masters," he added, "Inspector Drake must have told you what I saw."
"What you saw?" exclaimed Martin.