Here the air was foul and unwholesome, and even the torches refused to burn, saving with a yellow, uncertain light.
"We can't stand much of this," said Leander. "I feel as if I was in a tomb."
He had scarcely spoken when Dick pointed out some bones lying in a corner of the chamber. Coming closer, they made out the skeleton of a man. Beside the bones lay several patches of clothing and a pair of old-fashioned iron-rimmed spectacles.
"That man lost his life here, sure," said Bob. "Look; one of his leg-bones is broken in half."
"More than likely he broke his leg and found it impossible to walk further," said Don. "And then I suppose his light and food gave out, and he starved to death. Horrible!"
"I don't want to see any more of it," said Don, shuddering. "I guess he was an old man, otherwise he wouldn't have had those iron-rimmed spectacles. I suppose that skeleton has been here for a dozen years."
Dick was bending down over the bones, having seen something shining near one of the fleshless hands. He picked the object up and found it to be a long, flat, brass key.
"A key!" cried Robert Menden. He took the thing from the youth, and held it close to the torch. "By the queen!"
"What's up?" came in a chorus.
"See! The key is marked M. M. M. on one side!" And he pointed out the initials.