He took the lantern, trimmed it, and passed into the passage.
"Good-night," he said; "you may shut the door."
The door slammed to swiftly, cutting off the sound of the men's voices, and the captain proceeded on his weird and ghostly way.
The passage was wider and higher, and the road not so painfully uncomfortable as that by which they had reached the cliffs.
He hurried on, and found himself more quickly than he had expected at the end of the long passage, which was terminated by a small door.
A bar of iron extending crossways protected it outside, and the long pin projecting inside fastened it.
The captain thrust the pin through and the door opened.
To his surprise, a gush of warm but pure air greeted him, and with a feeling of extreme satisfaction he knew that he was once more above ground.
Before the door was a large round bush, which effectually concealed it from observation.
Pushing the bush aside with some difficulty the captain looked out and saw that he was in a portion of the disused garden nearest the house.