He walked across the museum, turned the key in the lock, and then rejoined his companions.
“Now, Cecil, if you please.”
Cecil Chacewater led the way; Sir Clinton motioned to the Inspector to follow him, and brought up the rear himself.
“Look out, here,” Cecil warned them. “There’s a flight of steps almost at once.”
They made their way down a spiral staircase which seemed to lead deep into the foundations of Ravensthorpe. At last it came to an end, and a narrow tunnel gaped before them.
“Nothing here, you see,” Cecil pointed out, flashing the torch in various directions. “This passage is the only outlet.”
He led the way into the tunnel, followed by the Inspector. Sir Clinton lagged behind them for a moment or two, and then showed no signs of haste, so that they had to pause in order to let him catch up.
The tunnel led them in a straight line for a time, then bent in a fresh direction.
“It’s getting narrower,” the Inspector pointed out.
“It gets narrower still before you’re done with it,” Cecil vouchsafed in reply.