Only a few inches had intervened between his body and that moving surface. The air was stifling. Then, at the moment when death seemed imminent, a feeling of faintness had come over Duncan. Mercifully, consciousness had faded from him.
The dark-faced Hindu had glanced stolidly at Duncan. Abdul was accepting death. Yet he had thrown his arm between his master and the moving wall. The solid surface pressed against his wrist and forced it toward Duncan's body. The Hindu realized that he could not withdraw his arm.
The thumping of the machinery had drummed into Abdul's thoughts. Then suddenly it had ceased. The pressure against his wrist remained the same. The Hindu stared in front of him. The wall was no longer moving!
Then came a grating sound, followed by a rush of cool fresh air. The steel curtain raised. The two men in the death chamber were revealed in the spot of a flashlight.
"Bruce Duncan?" came a voice. "Are you alive?"
"He is alive," replied Abdul.
The Hindu pressed his arm firmly against his master's body and managed to draw it free. There was not sufficient space for him to turn sideways, but he managed to force Duncan's form toward the archway where the steel curtain had been.
A pair of strong arms assisted him from the outside. A few seconds later Bruce Duncan was lying on the floor of the cellar. Abdul edged out of the narrow crevice and approached the man who held the flashlight.
"I am a friend," the man whispered. "My name is Harry Vincent. I saw you enter the cellar. I came to help. We must get Duncan out immediately."
He lifted the feet of the prostrate man. Abdul bore Duncan's head and shoulders. With Vincent's flashlight blazing the trail ahead, they carried their burden toward the open grating, passing the prone form of Pedro on the way.