“Why didn't you spring the lock when you came down? This is a pretty pass, I must say,” she said, her voice still shaky, her logic abnormal.
“I like that! Were you any better off before I came than you are now? How were you going to get out, may I ask?” he demanded, coolly seating himself on the top step. She stood leaning against the wooden door, the diplomatic lantern between them.
“I was going out by another way,” she said, shortly, but a shudder gave the lie to the declaration.
“Do you know where that hidden passage leads to?” he asked, looking up into her face. She was brushing cobwebs from her dress.
“To a cave near the old church,” she replied, triumphantly.
“Blissful ignorance!” he laughed. “It doesn't lead anywhere as it now exists. You see, there was a cave-in a few decades ago—”
“Is that the one that caved in?” she cried, in dismay.
“So Saxondale tells me.”
“And—and how did the—the—how did that awful thing get in there?” she asked, a new awe coming over her.
“Well, that's hard to tell. Bob says the door has never been opened, to his knowledge. Nobody knows the secret combination, or whatever you call it. The chances are that the poor fellow whose bones we saw got locked in there and couldn't get out. So he died. That's what might have happened to you, you know.”