Matters were in too serious a position for the jest to be appreciated, and Luella continued:
“It can't be the way out. Isn't there another?”
“We might try the passage.”
She gave a shudder and shrank toward me.
“No, no,” she cried in a low voice. “Try the door again. Somebody must hear you, and it may be opened.”
I followed her suggestion with a rain of kicks, emphasized with a shout that made the echoes ring gloomily in the passage.
I heard in reply a sound of voices, and then an answering shout, and the steps of men running.
“Are you there, Mr. Wilton?” cried the voice of Corson through the door.
“Yes, all safe,” I answered.
“Well, just hold on a bit, and we'll—”