It extended for a distance of about a hundred feet, and then terminated; nor did there appear to be any door, concealed or otherwise, at the end of it. Two more passages were explored with the same result; but the fourth, or middle passage of the seven, was different, in that, at the end, they came to a massive iron door. Drake stretched out his hand and made an attempt to twist the iron handle, but it would not budge. Again he tried, and this time it seemed to move a little; and as it did so Frobisher thought he caught a slight grinding, whirring sound, like rusty machinery reluctantly moving.
What it was that prompted him to act he did not know, but suddenly becoming possessed with a suspicion of that door and a sense of danger in its vicinity, he dragged Drake quickly away from the handle, and himself retreated a few steps.
It was well that he did so, for at that moment the grinding sounds became quite perceptible, waxed louder, and then—like lightning from a cloud, a row of curved swordblades shot out of slots in the stone-work which the men had not previously noticed, and swept together for all the world like a pair of calliper legs. Any person standing by the door must have infallibly been stabbed through and through by that deadly device. Then, just as suddenly, the blades sprang back into the wall and the door swung back on its hinges, revealing another and smaller chamber beyond.
“By all the Powers,” gasped Drake, wiping the perspiration from his forehead, “what a fiendish invention! Mr Frobisher, that’s the second time this night that you’ve saved my life. I shall not forget.”
“Pshaw!” answered Frobisher; “what about the times you’ve saved mine? But, Drake,” he continued excitedly, “I’ve got an idea that we are on the point of discovering something. The man who owned this palace must have had something very well worth guarding, or he would never have taken the trouble to instal such an elaborate arrangement as that to destroy possible thieves, for that’s what it was intended to do, without a doubt. Let’s get along and see what there is to see; but be careful, for goodness’ sake. There may be more of these man-traps about, and we don’t want to be left dead in this hole.”
So saying, Frobisher stepped slowly and cautiously through the door-way, holding his torch high above his head, and at once found himself in a small, circular chamber, which was almost completely filled with ironbound cases and chests of every description.
“Great Caesar’s ghost!” almost shouted Frobisher to Drake, who was standing just inside the door, with mouth wide open and torch almost dropping out of his hand; “we have dropped right into somebody’s treasure-house, and no mistake. If those chests do not contain valuables, my name is not Murray Frobisher. Bring your stick, and let us see whether we can wrench off one of the locks. It should not be very difficult, for the wood looks so rotten as almost to be crumbling to powder.”
No sooner said than done. Drake eagerly placed the end of his stout cudgel under the hasp of the nearest of the boxes and, using it as a lever, soon sent the iron flying, the nails drawing out of the soft, “punky” wood as easily as though they had been set in putty. Next they swung the lid back; and then—what a sight met their astounded eyes!
The box contained neither gold nor silver, but was full to the brim with jewels of the most magnificent description, unset, every one of them, and all flashing and scintillating in the glare of the torches like a boxful of the most exquisitely coloured liquid fire. The sight was so extraordinarily beautiful that it fairly took the beholders’ breath away, and for quite a minute neither of them could speak a word; they simply stood still, gasping with wonder and delight.
Another chest, and then another was opened, both of