"That is the general idea," Carter replied in a gentle voice.
Wilmer braced himself against the wall and Carter clambered to his shoulders and cautiously pushed his head through the opening. He remained thus for quite a while—until Wilmer Payton began moving restlessly. Then he clambered down.
They waited for him to speak but he said nothing. He stared at the hole with a look of amazement upon his face as though, for the first time the wonder of this strange transition had struck him forcibly. Then he turned his eyes upon his three companions and there was a look in his eyes that had not been there before; personal, yet impersonally analytical. A hard look to read, so they could have no way of knowing that he was trying to forecast how they would react to the fate that awaited them.
"Well," Wilmer Payton demanded impatiently. "Did you see anything?"
"Yes. This is not a room. It is a huge box of some sort. It is bound around on all sides by what looks like red carpeting of a width used in hallways. I believe such carpetings are called runners. Attached to the top is a large white sail although it appears to be made of paper rather than canvas." He was watching them closely as he spoke.
"It took you all that time to see those things?" Walter Maltby asked a trifle plaintively.
"No. There were other things."
At this point Peggy Wilson, coming out of her shock, began to cry hysterically. "My God! What's to become of us? We'll all be killed—murdered!"
"I don't think so," Carter said.
"Then we'll be held prisoner. That will be just as bad!"