Before him, tottering in the last stage of decay, rose a ruined building. Gaunt and ghostly, its roofless walls stood, the relics of some past civilisation. Fascinated, Wilson moved nearer. What was the history of this crumbling pile, the one sign of civilised life that he had seen in this underworld? For what purpose had it been erected, and by whom?
The pillars, which once had graced its front, lay half buried in the spongy ground. Climbing fungi ran riot in the gaping cracks in its walls, and its stone pavement was covered with a carpet of moss. Its air of desolate grandeur strongly impressed Wilson, and for a while he forgot what had brought him thither.
His engineer’s eye took in the monstrous size of the blocks which had formed the walls, and he marvelled how they could have been raised to their places. Surely they who erected such a building must have been men of gigantic stature and strength, unless indeed they were equipped with the appliances of modern engineering?
Dare he enter? The place seemed as deserted as the grave. If there were savages about, they would, without a doubt, have shown themselves ere now. He longed to examine the ruins more closely. There appeared to be no danger, and, if it came to that, he was not safe where he stood. Thus reasoning, curiosity got the better of his prudence, and he strode across the clearing.
Just outside the great arch that had once been the doorway he paused, and stood for a moment with ears strained for any sound from within; but the place was wrapped in silence as in a shroud, and, reassured, he crossed the threshold.
There was danger in his enterprise other than that from savages. At any moment a block of stone might come crashing from the walls, and, were he beneath such, his career would be ended on the spot. Knowing this, he made his examination as brief as possible, keeping well back from the walls.
The building appeared to have been used as a temple at one time, for in the centre stood a stone altar. Time, the destroyer, had not quite obliterated the rude hieroglyphics with which the side of the sacrificial slab had been covered, but Wilson could not gain from them the information he so much desired. To him they were mere meaningless scratches. Mervyn, perhaps, could have read in them the life-history of the builders of the place; but the engineer’s education did not include the sign languages of defunct races.
Suddenly, clear as ever through the silence, came the bell-note.
The sound recalled to Wilson the object of his search, the mysterious bell-ringer. Not a little curious as to the identity of the being, whoever it was, he thoroughly examined the interior of the temple—but in vain. The place was entirely deserted. Not a hole was there large enough to conceal a dog, yet the engineer was certain the sound came from the building.
Was there a vault beneath the temple? It seemed probable, but how came it that the sound was so distinct if the ringer were underground? The thing puzzled him.