Marc stopped and looked back over his shoulder. From where the three of them were standing in the sloping tunnel, he could not see the entrance, but the faint, luminous glow of reflected moonlight marked its probable location. Also, it gave the passage an eerie, under-water appearance.
"We've come quite a distance," he whispered. "We must be almost level with the ocean by now. I wondered how Herrigg ever found this place. It looked like an ordinary wash-out from the highway."
Toffee tugged at his sleeve. "He probably built it that way himself," she hissed. "Let's keep going."
"Reminds me of a downstairs saloon in Omaha," Harold put in with a misguided attempt at sociability. "You go down this little passage, and...."
There was a sudden, soft slapping sound, and Harold became strangely mute.
"We'll hear about your disreputable meanderings some other time," Toffee said menacingly.
And, for a time, they traveled on in silence.
Then, as they rounded a bend in the tunnel, Toffee, who had self-appointedly taken the lead, suddenly darted back, and forced Marc and Harold back against the rough, rocky wall.
"Take it easy," Harold complained. "You trying to split my head open?"