“Now, we’ve got to be careful, or we shall be hitting against one another, sir! Let me see: there’s one step down, and then you’re in a place like a dairy, with two sets of stone shelves,—one just above the floor, to keep it out of the damp; the other just about as high as a man’s breast,—and there’s kegs of powder piled-up on them all. You stand still, and I’ll go in.”
“No; let me,” said Roy, though why he said this puzzled the boy himself, when the exciting minutes had passed.
“Well, sir, you’re master, and if you’d rather, of course you can. But I don’t mind going if you like.”
“I’ll go,” said Roy, huskily, and, stretching out his hands in the now profound darkness, he felt for and touched the side of the entrance, then made a step forward to place his stockinged foot down upon the cold stone floor, which struck up like ice. Bringing forward his second foot, he reached out for the side of the vault, and found the place just as his companion had described, for his hands came in contact with small wooden barrels, neatly piled one upon the other on a great stone shelf, beneath which was another shelf laden in a similar way.
“Feel anything, sir?” said Ben, from the entrance.
“Yes: barrels, numbers of them,” said Roy, huskily, his voice sounding a mere whisper in the darkness. “They go on—yes, to here. It is only a small vault.”
“Yes, sir, but big enough. Try the other side now.”
Three steps took Roy there, and his hands touched barrels again piled-up in the same way, and he whispered his experience.
“That’s it, sir; just what I thought. But what we want to know now is, are they full? Would you mind lifting one, or shall I come and do it?”
Roy shuddered a little, but he did not shrink. Stretching out his hands, he took a careful hold of one of the kegs, raised it to find it fairly heavy, and then replaced it.