On the metal plates it boomed and echoed thunderously. A ringing clangor vibrated the crypt.
“Crash!”
Did the door start? No; but in the long-eroded plates a jagged dent took form.
Again the ax swung high. Cold though the vault was, sweat globuled his forehead, where the veins had swelled to twisting knots.
“Crash!”
With a wild verberation, a scream of sundered metal and a clatter of flying fragments, the staple gave way. A crack showed round the edge of the iron barrier.
Stern flung his shoulder against the door. Creaking, it swung. He staggered through. One hand groped out to steady him, against the wall. From the other the ax dropped crashing to the floor.
Only a second he stood thus, swaying; then he turned and gathered Beta in his arms. And on his breast she hid her face, from which the roses all had faded quite.
He felt her fighting back the tears, and raised her head and kissed her.
“There, there!” he soothed. “It wasn't anything, after all, you see. But--if we hadn't brought the ax with us--”