"The wind," Cecil answered. "I thought it was going to be a rough night."
The window had been left open at the top, and the roar of the wind across the open places came into the room like muffled thunder. The lamp which Forrest carried was blown out, and the two men were left in darkness.
"Shut the window, for Heaven's sake, man!" Forrest ordered sharply. "Here!"
He took an electric torch from his pocket, and both men drew a little breath of relief as the light flashed out. Cecil climbed on to a chair and closed the window. Forrest glanced at the clock.
"It's quite late enough," he said. "It should be high tide in a quarter of an hour, and the sea in that little cove of yours is twenty feet deep. Come along and work this door."
"Have you got everything?" Cecil asked nervously.
"I have the chloroform," Forrest answered, touching a small bottle in his waistcoat pocket. "We don't need anything else. He hasn't the strength of a rabbit, and you and I can carry him down the passage. If he struggles there's no one to hear him."
Cecil pushed his way against the panels and opened the clumsy door. They groped their way down the passage.
"Faugh!" Forrest exclaimed. "What smells! Cecil," he added, "I suppose half the village know about this place, don't they?"
"They know that it has been here always," Cecil answered, "but they most of them think that it is blocked up now. We did try to, Andrew and I, but the masonry gave way. These lumps on the floor are the remains of our work. Keep your torch down. You'll fall over them."