“No, no, my lad,” said Gurr kindly, as he joined him. “Too rough a job for you. I’ll lead, and, hang it! I shall have to crawl. Not very good work for one’s clothes. Come along, my lads. You, Mr Raystoke, and four men stop back, and form the reserve, to take prisoner any one who tries to escape.”
The men descended till every step was occupied, the little force extending from top to bottom.
“Stop a minute, Mr Gurr. Let the bo’s’n guard the entry here; I must go with you to act as guide.”
“It aren’t all passage, then, like this?”
“No; it’s a great open place supported by pillars, big enough to lose yourselves in. But stop; that can’t be the way, sir.”
“Oh, hang it all, my lad!” cried the master in disappointed tones. “Don’t say that.”
“But I do,” cried Archy. “There ought to be a trap-door covered with stones leading down a place like a well.”
“Yes; that’s what we’ve come down.”
“No, no, another. I think it was down here.”
He stamped his foot on the loose stones, and then uttered a cry of joy, for there was a curious hollow sound, and on stooping down he pulled away some of the great shaley fragments, and laid bare a rough plank with a bolt partly visible.