The tunnel from here on was concreted, walls, roof and floor. Passing quickly along for possibly a hundred yards, they approached a steep flight of steps. At the top they found a closed door. Bill turned the handle and it swung inward.
“Guess I won’t need this any more,” he said and braced the door open with the crowbar. “If they’re too many for us, we may have to leave in a hurry. Just as well to keep the way clear.”
By the feeble light of the candle they saw that they stood in a small whitewashed cellar. Leading off this to the left, was an open corridor, and from some distance down this passage came the glow of electric light. A large safe, painted white, was built into a corner of the cellar wall.
At a nod from Bill, Dorothy blew out the light and placed the candlestick on the stone floor. Then as she straightened up he brought his lips close to her ear.
“I’ll bet that’s where they keep the loot! Follow me, and hold your gun handy.”
One after the other, on tiptoe, the pair crept across the cellar, their rubber-soled shoes making not the slightest sound. When they came to the corridor, Bill slackened his pace but continued to stalk steadily forward. On their left the whitewashed wall led straight on in an unbroken line. In the right wall, they saw the iron grills of cells. They passed the first, which was dark, and evidently empty. From the second came the glow of light.
Bill turned and placed a finger on his lips. Then he got down on his hands and knees and crawled forward to the door.
“Good heavens!” Dorothy heard him gasp. “So that’s where they had you!”
He stood up and she hurried toward him.
“Terry!”