Chefano, with Frenchy standing guard, made a cursory examination of the coffin. Then he whistled for Jupe to fetch his human burden.
For a moment, the ape-man hesitated. It seemed as though the eerie place were occupied by more than just the four of them. Not that Jupe saw any other. It was more a dread, oppressive feeling that called to some primitive sense. As though intense, boring eyes were fastening themselves upon him with tentacles of doom. And there among the night's haunting shadows, there seemed to be a greater, all-enveloping shadow.
Chefano whistled again. It was not for Jupe, the ape-man, to think. With his burden, he shambled forward.
Jupe, with Chefano standing by, carefully placed Bruce in the pine-board box. Looking upward, the bound man could see the white mausoleum, looming like death itself.
"Are you comfortable?" hissed Chefano in a jeering whisper. "I hope you like your bed; you will sleep in it for a long, long time."
"A long, long while," echoed Frenchy.
"Get the cover," hissed Chefano. His voice seemed part of the whistling wind.
Frenchy prepared to place the top portion of the crude coffin in position.
"Not yet," said Chefano. "We're going to give him a fighting chance." The man's voice seemed to laugh in sinister fashion. "We'll let him call for help. Let him force his way out. Through the cover, up through six feet of earth!"
He drew a knife from his pocket. He turned the flash on Duncan's prostrate form. He cut the rope about the prisoner's ankles, then the rope at the wrists, which were beneath Duncan's body. This did not effect a release; Bruce struggled but found the ropes did not yield immediately.