"His face is green," Forrester whispered uneasily.
"So is yours," said Mackenzie.
"And yours too, by Jove!" cried Forrester, after a good look at him. "What the mischief have they been doing to us?"
"I cannot say. I know that my head is sore."
"I've a headache, if that's what you mean," said Forrester.
"So have I, splitting," added Jackson, sitting up, but still resting his hands on the floor. "By Jinks, the stone is warm!"
"It is that," said Mackenzie, feeling it. "They're wishful we shan't take a chill, by the look of it."
They gazed around their narrow chamber. Walls and floor appeared to be of solid rock. In the centre of one wall was a door of stout timber, without lock or handle. High in another was an opening, like the arrow slits in medieval castles, through which a white light filtered.
"Get on my back, Dick, and keek out," said Mackenzie.
In a moment Forrester was mounted.