As he went he strove to recall Mervyn’s description of the position of the fire cell, in which he had no doubt his friends would be confined; but the scientist had not been able to explain very clearly. All that Seymour could remember was that a long passage, crossed by many more passages, led from the fire cell to the temple, and with this meagre knowledge of the geography of the wolf-men’s caverns he had to be content. He was determined, come what might, that he would not return without his friends if they still lived; and if Nordhu, in his devilish hate, had destroyed them, he would act as their avenger.
He had no fear, although he was alone—one against a myriad. He had a strong belief in the ultimate triumph of right, and he knew that his mission was a righteous one; therefore he did not shrink from penetrating into the very midst of the savage’s haunts to fulfil his purpose. He dared all to rescue his comrades from the hands of the wolfish fiends who, for no reason save their own savage lust for slaughter, had taken them captives—to give them back life and liberty, sweeter than ever now that they knew there was a way of escape from this ghostly underworld to the daylight.
He lifted his heart in a prayer for Higher help as he went on—for Divine guidance upon his all but impossible task. Past the great idol he strode, ears alert for the least sound that should tell of the presence of an enemy. But the vast natural amphitheatre was deserted, silent as the grave. Neither priest nor savage showed himself.
At length he reached the skin curtain which veiled the mouth of the passage, and, lifting this, passed through. And now the real difficulties of his task became apparent. The heart of the hills seemed literally honeycombed with passages and tunnels. Every few yards he would pass the mouth of some gallery leading off from the one he was following, and from each of these came sounds of life and movement—the clanging of metal, the rattling of chains, and, sounding high above all, the booming strokes as of some huge hammer.
What work was being carried on down there in the bowels of the hills? Seymour wondered. Was it the making of weapons for the use of the savages? His musings broke off short, as a dark form flitted across the passage ahead of him. For an instant he thought his presence was discovered, and that he particularly wished to avoid until he had found his friends; but the savage disappeared as silently as he had come, and once more Seymour breathed freely. The encounter taught him the necessity of haste, however, and he pressed on with increased speed.
His jewel—without which he would have been in total darkness, save for the occasional flashes of flame which leapt up from the side galleries—he could not dispense with, yet he knew that its brilliant light would betray his presence in these dismal caverns should any passing savage sight it. And the alarm once given, farewell to all hope of accomplishing his mission. In a moment he would be surrounded by a shrieking horde of savages thirsting for his blood.
He did not think that—strange, unearthly figure as he looked in his gleaming mail—the wolf-men, in their barbarous ignorance, would probably take him for a supernatural being, some demi-god who had fallen from his place, and had entered their haunts with intent to destroy them.
Yet such was the case; for, of a sudden, rounding a curve in the passage, he came full upon a savage, who at sight of him dropped flat upon his face, moaning with terror. What to do with the creature Seymour did not know. Natural prudence suggested that he should silence him for ever; but all the chivalry in his nature revolted against the idea of killing him in cold blood.
The decision was mercifully taken out of his hands, however. As he stood considering what course to pursue, the moaning of the wolf-man ceased. Stooping, Seymour discovered that he was dead. The superstitious terror inspired by the baronet’s appearance had proved too much for the savage.
“It’s saved me a nasty job,” Seymour muttered as he resumed his progress; “I should have been obliged to kill him, or he’d have raised the very deuce in a few seconds.”