Hume heard the scrape of the knife, the thud of the stone as it fell back.
“Carrambo!” exclaimed the Captain. “What a hole of night! Who goes down first? I will lead. A light—give me a light.”
There was a light, a flash of red flame from the hole in the wall, as Hume, who had listened, with nerves all quivering, fired blindly to save his friends.
“Bayate!” gasped the old woman. “It is well done, O Mole.”
There was a sound of rushing feet, followed by a storm of curses from the passage, where the men had rushed for shelter. Hume drew his revolver, and, with his arm out of the hole, fired in the direction of the voices.
“The powder!” roared the Captain, hoarse with fury. “Give me the powder, and I will blow in the wall on their heads.”
“Nay!” said Ferrara; “the falling stones may crush in the secret chamber below. Let two of us fire into the hole while the other descends.”
“No, the powder! That bullet grazed my head. I will lay it against the wall. Good! here is a projecting stone. Get back, all of you, to the inner curve.”
Hume, listening, heard the men retreat.
“Listen in there! In one minute you will be crushed. I have laid the train”—there was a scratch—“I have fired it—good-bye!”