On every hand it could be seen that the brigands were accustomed to such events as this; firing and food had been laid up in abundance, and whether the winter, or an enemy in the shape of the government troops, made the attack, they were prepared.
“There is nothing for it, Lawrence, but to accept our position, I suppose,” said the professor.
“No,” said Mr Burne, who overheard the remark; “but suppose my snuff does not hold out, what then?”
Before anyone could answer, he made a suggestion of his own.
“Necessity is the mother of invention,” he said. “I should have to bake some of this Turkish tobacco, and grind it between stones.”
Then a week glided away, and during that time, being left so much to their own devices, the brigands keeping in the shelter of their homes, the professor visited the ancient passage with Yussuf, and carefully explored it.
“Ancient Greek,” he said when he returned, “like the greater part of this old city. Some of it has been modernised by the Romans, but that passage is certainly ancient Greek, about—”
“But the way out—the way to escape, Mr Preston,” said Mrs Chumley eagerly, “surely that is of more consequence than your dates.”
“To be sure, yes; I forgot, ma’am. Yussuf made a careful investigation of the mouth of the passage where it opens upon the side of the precipice; in fact, I went out with him. The track is many feet deep in snow, and it would be utter folly to attempt to escape.”
“Oh, dear me!” sighed Mrs Chumley.