“Here. And, I say, you made me turn about, and I don’t know which nay the door is now. But we’ll soon find it.”
Nothing seems more simple to talk of, but nothing is more confusing than to be standing in profound darkness, not knowing which way to go, the slightest deviation beginning the confusion, which seems to augment.
Fred’s attempt to regain touch of their position was simple enough. He went forward, and after a step or two touched the wall.
“Here we are, Scar,” he said. “Come along. The door is just here. Yes; here it is.”
He seized the edge, and it gave forth its dismal creak again.
“That’s the wrong door,” cried Scarlett, excitedly. “The one we just came through.”
“Is it?” said Fred, confusedly. “Yes, I suppose it is. Then we must try again. How stupid!”
The second trial was more successful; and slowly and cautiously passing through, they began directly after to make their way along the first passages they had traversed, feeling their course round the angles at the sharp turns, and with their spirits rising fast as they felt that they were approaching the entrance; and as they at last reached it, with the daylight shining through, feeling ready to laugh at their fears.
“Here we are, Scar,” cried Fred, as he lay down and rolled himself over and over till he was in the hollow stair, and directly after climbed out, bent down and took the candlestick from his companion’s hand, leaving him free to follow, but Scarlett uttered a cry.
“What’s the matter?”