For a long time he lay still, gasping for breath. They had him cold! There was no use in trying to think of a way out of his difficulty. All he wanted now was to rest, a chance to pull himself together. After all was said and done, what were a few years in the penitentiary? He was young. Five years—even ten,—what were they at his time of life? He would be thirty-five, at the most forty, when he came out, and as fit as he was when he went in.
"It was all my fault anyway," he reflected bitterly. "If I had let Madge alone I—Oh,—what's the use belly-aching now! That's all over,—and here am I, paying pretty blamed dearly for a month's pleasure. They've got me. There's no way out of it now. Jail! Well, worse things could happen than that. What will mother think? I suppose it will hurt like the devil. But she could have fixed this if she'd loosened up a bit. She could have gone to Washington as I told her to do and—hell, it wouldn't have cost her half as much as it will to defend me in court. She can't get a decent lawyer under—well, God knows how many thousands."
He sat up and unbuttoned his overcoat in order to feel of the spot where the stone had struck him. He winced a little. After a moment's reflection he drew a box of matches from his pocket.
"No harm in striking a match now," he chattered aloud. "I may as well see what sort of a place it is."
He crawled farther back in the cave, out of the wind, and struck a match. His hand shook violently, his chin quivered. During the life of the brief flare, the interior of Quill's Window was revealed to him. The cave was perhaps twenty feet deep and almost as wide at the front, with an uneven, receding roof and a flat floor that dropped at no inconsiderable slant toward the rear. It appeared to be empty except for the remains of two or three broken-up boxes over against one of the walls. He struck a second match to light a cigarette, continuing his scrutiny while the tiny blaze lasted. He saw no bones, no ghastly skulls, no signs of the ancient tragedies that made the place abhorrent.
He crawled back to the entrance. Lying flat, he peered over the ledge.
"Hallo, down there!" he called out. No response. He shouted once more, his voice cracking a little.
"Where are you?"
This time he got an answer. A hoarse voice replied:
"I'm here, all right."