They crossed the room. The man on the couch opened his eyes and looked at them dully.
"So you've been improving the shining hour, eh?" Forrest remarked, pointing to the rough steps. "We shall have to find what you did it with. Hidden under the mattress, I suppose."
He stooped down, and Engleton flew at his throat with all the fury of a wild cat. Forrest was taken aback for a moment, but the effort was only a brief one. Engleton's strength seemed to pass away even before he had concluded his attack. He sank back and collapsed upon the floor at a touch.
"You brutes!" he muttered.
Cecil lifted the mattress. There was a large flat stone, sharp-edged and coated with mud, lying underneath.
"I thought so," he whispered. "Jove, he's gone a long way with it, too!" he muttered, looking upward. "Another foot or so and he would have been outside. I wonder the place didn't collapse."
Engleton dragged himself a little way back. He remained upon the floor, but there was support for his back now against the wall.
"Well," he said, "what is it this evening?"
"The end," Forrest answered shortly.
Engleton did not flinch. Of the three men, although his physical condition was the worst, he seemed the most at his ease.