“I did not see this wall,” expostulated Miranda. “You are in one dream.”
“Never mind,” snapped Leighton; “go on with your story.”
“I am afraid you will believe me less than ever,” said Andrew deprecatingly. “But I am only telling what I am certain I saw.”
“Go on.”
“As he passed his hand over the surface of the wall he gradually turned to one side until we stood before a narrow cleft in the rocks.”
“It is not there,” interrupted Miranda contemptuously. “I examine all this rock. It has no—what you call?—cleft.”
“I am very sorry, Sir, but I know that there is such a cleft. I think that is what you would call it. You might easily have overlooked it, Sir. It was only a narrow opening in the rock, facing away from the lake and reaching up not more than about three feet from the ground.”
“I remember it,” declared Raoul.
“Pray go on with your story, Mr. Parmelee,” Leighton commanded.
“There is not much more to tell, although the little that remains is quite the most extraordinary part of it. Pausing an instant before this opening in the rock, my strange guide crouched down until he was able to pass within it, beckoned me to follow him, and then disappeared.”