Meinik had, by this time, lighted two more torches.
"The more light the better," he said, "when you are looking for snakes," and, holding them in one hand and his knife in the other, he passed through the doorway, which was about four feet high.
Stanley followed him. The apartment was similar to the last, but narrower; and was lighted by an opening not more than a foot square.
"See, Meinik, there is a staircase, in the corner facing us."
The steps were very narrow, but in perfect preservation. Without staying to examine the room, Meinik led the way up; examining every step carefully, and holding the knife in readiness to strike. They mounted some forty steps, and then entered a room about ten feet square. Except a window, some eighteen inches by three feet, there was no apparent exit from the chamber.
"I should think that there must be some way out of this place, Meinik. Why should they have taken the trouble to cut that long flight of steps through the rock, just to reach this miserable little chamber?"
Meinik shook his head. The ways of these ancient builders were beyond him.
"There must be an outlet somewhere, if we could but find it. Besides, we have not found where the snake came in, yet."
"He could have come in at the door, master. A small snake could not have climbed up, but that big fellow could rear his head up and come in, quite easily. We have found no little snakes at all."
"Well, that may be so, but I still think that there must be some way out from here. Why should men go to the labour of cutting this long stair, and excavating this chamber here, without any reason whatever? Let us look through the window, Meinik."