The sergeant passed the lantern to his companion, who took it, and so reversed its position, the rays from the bull’s-eye being directed toward the sergeant, and, consequently, Stratton and Guest were in the shadow, out of which the latter peered forward with his heart beating violently, and as he leaned forward he touched Stratton’s arm.
He shuddered and shrank back, being conscious that Stratton grasped the reason, for a low sigh escaped him; but he did not stir, and, in spite of his feeling of repulsion, Guest felt compelled to press forward again to witness the horror about to be unveiled.
“Turn the light more down,” whispered the sergeant; and, in spite of the low tone in which they were uttered, the words sounded loudly in Guest’s ears.
“Now for it,” muttered the officer; and, as if forcing himself to act, he flung up the bath lid so that it struck against the panelled side of the place with a sharp rap, and set free a quantity of loose plaster and brickwork to fall behind the wainscot with a peculiar, rustling sound that sent a shudder through the lookers-on.
Chapter Thirty Eight.
The blind Lead.
As that horrible, rustling sound behind the wainscot was heard, the two hardened men in the old passage shrank away to door and end, while a cold sweat bedewed Guest’s face, and his breath felt laboured. Then there was a reaction. Old memories flashed through his brain, and he seized Stratton’s arm.
“Old friends,” he muttered. “I can’t forsake him now.”