“We had to be here—that’s all,” said The O’Mahony, briefly. “I’ve got to meet a man tomorrow, at a place some distance from here, sure pop; and then there’s the big job on next day.” Jerry said no more, and The O’Mahony took the candle down from the iron ring in the wall.
“D’ye know, I noticed somethin’ cur’ous in the wall out on the staircase here as we come down?” he said, bearing the light before him as he moved to the door. “It’s about a dozen steps up. Here it is! What d’ye guess that might a-been?”
The O’Mahony held the candle close to the curved wall, and indicated with his free hand a couple of regular and vertical seams in the masonry, about two feet apart, and nearly a man’s height in length.
“There’s a door there, or I’m a Dutchman,” he said, lifting and lowering the light in his scrutiny.
The mediæval builders could have imagined no sight more weird than that of the high, fantastic shadows thrown upon the winding, well-like walls by this drenched and saturnine figure, clad in oilskins instead of armor, and peering into their handiwork with the curiosity of a man nurtured in a log-cabin.
“Egor, would it be a dure?” exclaimed the wondering Jerry.
His companion handed the candle to him, and took from his pocket a big jack-knife—larger, if anything, than the weapon which had been left under the window of the little farm-house at Five Forks. He ran the large blade up and down the two long, straight cracks, tapping the stonework here and there with the butt of the handle afterward. Finally, after numerous experiments, he found the trick—a bolt to be pushed down by a blade inserted not straight but obliquely—and a thick, iron-bound door, faced with masonry, but with an oaken lining, swung open, heavily and unevenly, upon some concealed pivots.
The O’Mahony took the light once more, thrust it forward to make sure of his footing, and then stepped over the newly-discovered threshold, Jerry close at his heels. They pushed their way along a narrow and evil-smelling passage, so low that they were forced to bend almost double. Suddenly, after traversing this for a long distance, their path was blocked by another door, somewhat smaller than the other. This gave forth a hollow sound when tested by blows.
“It ain’t very thick,” said The O’Mahony. “I’ll put my shoulder against it. I guess I can bust her open.”
The resistance was even less than he had anticipated. One energetic shove sufficed; the door flew back with a swift splintering of rotten wood. The O’Mahony went stumbling sidelong into the darkness as the door gave way. At the moment a strange, rumbling sound was heard at some remote height above them, and then a crash nearer at hand, the thundering reverberation of which rang with loud echoes through the vault-like passage. The concussion almost put out the candle, and Jerry noted that the hand which he instinctively put out to shield the flame was trembling.