“What’s that for?” said Ben.
“Coming with you. I want to know what the place is like.”
“Oh, there’s no need for two of us to go, sir. One’s enough.”
Roy said nothing, but followed the old fellow down eight stone steps, and then they stood together against a door, which felt to the touch to be very strongly made of stone, while, after a little searching about for a keyhole, Ben said, with a grunt—
“Forgot! There aren’t no key to this. It’s fastened with these two wooden bars.”
“I thought they were part of the door, Ben,” said Roy, in the same suppressed tone.
“So did I, sir, at first. I ought to have remembered, and I think I do now. Yes! that’s the way; they turn on pins in the middle like wooden buttons, and you turns one up and the other down out of the notches they fit in, and then push the door, which has stone hinges.”
As he spoke, Ben turned the two great wooden bars, and then pressed upon the door.
“Hope the stones won’t strike a light, sir,” said Ben, in a low growl.
Roy felt as if a hand had suddenly compressed his heart, and he peered wildly through the door-way, half expecting to see a tiny spark or two, as a dull, grating sound arose; but the only sparks the door made were those glittering in his own eyes, and he drew a deeper, harder breath as the door ceased to move.