Daisy made no reply, for the horror of some impending evil seemed to be upon her, and with her lips parched, and tongue dry, she could not even utter a word; but clung to him, and tried to urge him away.
“Come along, then, into the counting-house,” he said, infected now by the girl’s manifest fears. “Mind how you come; the steps are worn. Take care.”
But for his arm Daisy would probably have fallen, but he aided her, and she reached the floor in safety.
“Stop a moment, silly child,” he said, “and I’ll light a match, just to look round and show you that you are frightened at nothing.”
“No, no,” gasped Daisy. “Quick, quick, the door.”
“Well, then, little one, just to prevent our breaking our necks over this cursed machinery.”
“No, no,” moaned Daisy. “I know the way. Here, quick.”
But Richard was already striking the wax match he had taken from a box, and then as the light blazed up he uttered a cry of horror, and let it fall, while Daisy, who took in at a glance the horror of their situation, sank beside the burning match, which blazed for a few moments on the beaten earth, and then went out, leaving them in a darkness greater than before.