"My stars, what a queer place! I wish I could only strike a light, so as to have a peep at it," thought Paul. "What can Mr. Weevil do down here? It isn't a cheerful place, even for a man who happens to be very much in love with his own society."
He came to a sudden pause. What was the use of exploring the tunnel further? He could see nothing, hear nothing. So where was the use of groping along in the darkness? It was folly, especially when he might be precipitated at any moment into some hidden chasm. But folly though it might be, Paul could not turn back. A mysterious voice within him seemed to be urging him on. If Mr. Weevil had passed along that tunnel in safety, why shouldn't he? It must have an outlet somewhere, and Paul grew more and more curious to find out what that outlet could be.
"I feel very much like an explorer in darkest Africa," he smiled to himself. "Shall I be coming across an unknown lake presently, or a race of pigmies? Hallo! What's that? Light at last."
Light it was but of the faintest. It came with a faint streak into the tunnel. The darkness was only darkness before, but now fantastic shadows seemed to menace Paul at every footstep he took. Feeble though the light was, it was enough to show him that the tunnel had broadened considerably. Stepping warily along, the light grew stronger at every step, until he at length discovered that the path along which he was so cautiously travelling led into a cave lit with oil-lamps.
Then he came to a sudden pause again, and his heart beat wildly against his ribs, as he caught the sound of voices. The cave was not empty. There was some one inside. Who?
As he approached nearer he saw that a curtain was partly drawn over the entrance. Paul knew that a false step might betray him.
To lessen the risk of detection, therefore, he crawled on hands and knees to the curtain, and eagerly peered through the space nearest the wall.
The cave looked quite warm and comfortable. A fire of anthracite, which sent out plenty of heat but no smoke, burnt on a hearth cut out of the sandstone. Two or three lamps suspended from the roof diffused an Oriental glow, while several warm bear-skin rugs were scattered over the ground.
A couple of guns and two or three cutlasses were hanging on the wall; and what was more astonishing to Paul, several maps and designs. The nature of these it was impossible for him to ascertain. He further noticed that in one niche of the wall was a photographic camera. In another were ship models, in the third the models of torpedoes, engines, and machinery of various kind.
Paul had taken all this in at a glance. He had not yet seen the occupants of the cave, but there appeared from what he could hear, to be only two. They were conversing in low tones at the far end, where the lights from the lamps dimly penetrated. After a while the conversation became more animated, and the two moved to a table at the centre.