Manuel, after pausing for a moment to take his breath, strode up to the group.
"Get in there, some of you!" he ordered, "And show me the way. I want to see over the place."
A chorus of wails arose. The guards shrank and cowered at the suggestion. Their terror was more than panicky, it was even hysterical. They shook with convulsive jerks of fear, as though they had a spasm disease.
"Christophe!" cried one of them, in a sort of howl. "Christophe! For three days he is here, Yes! We see him walk, Yes! If we go in, he will make us jump off the cliff!"
And another added, with an undertone of superstitious horror,
"And his ghost will be waiting at the bottom to carry our ghosts away!"
"Fools!" declared Manuel, "open the door!"
He pointed to where the huge, rusty iron-bound door frowned in the blank wall of gray stone.
The negro guards hung back and gabbled together, but Manuel turned upon them fiercely with uplifted switch. At that, the giant warder, who had already acknowledged the mastership, slouched forward and pulled open the creaking door, leaving a dark opening from which came the smell of foul air and poisonous vegetation.
Manuel motioned with his head for Stuart to precede him.