Thereupon he returned. His manly heart was throbbing fast—violently, even painfully. The sense of loneliness was oppressive. Had his purpose been less important, he would certainly have turned and fled. But too much was at stake. Before him there arose the vision of that vast treasure—thirty thousand pounds—and its attraction was irresistible. He must go forward; and now was the time to win, or never.
He stood for a moment gathering up his courage.
What if Rita should be concealed somewhere up there!
Such was the awful thought that suddenly occurred to him and made him quail.
The idea suggested itself of going back to Harry and getting his aid. But no, that would never do. He would let it be supposed that these bonds had been taken from him. If he were to tell his secret to Harry, all would be lost. No; he must go, and alone.
Once more he went to the door and listened. All was still.
He now nerved himself up for a supreme effort. If he were to delay any longer, some of them would be sure to return. Now or never.
He struck a match against the stone floor. It kindled.
In another moment the torch was blazing brightly; and, holding this in one hand, Russell used his other hand to clamber up the projecting stones.
Up he went, higher and higher.