"I dropped it—I was so astonished. But we can kindle another. I have matches and you have wood."
"I?—no, I must have lost it as I ran. I had two sticks when we entered, but they are gone now," slowly returned Wythe.
Both remained silent. Each realized the full force of this new calamity. Without a light how could they ever hope to find their way out of this labyrinth? With a light, the task would be hard enough—without one, it become simply impossible.
"We must regain them, even though we have to face that horrible sight once more," muttered Duplin, with a resolution that was simply sublime, when his superstitious nature is remembered.
"Did you hear it, too?"
"The laughter—yes. It was no delusion. Pray God that I may never hear it again!"
"Hark!"
A low, indistinct sound met their ears. It seemed to proceed from the passage they had just left. Its precise nature they could not define, but—perhaps the thought was excited by what had just occurred—they fancied it was the faint echo of that horrible peal of laughter.
"It's coming nearer—what shall we do?" gasped Duplin, tremblingly.
"Remember what Jack showed us. There is some trickery here, I feel sure. If we flee blindly through these passages, we are indeed lost. We must meet what is coming. If really supernatural, we can not run away from it. If human, we can solve the mystery with a pistol-bullet," hurriedly muttered Burr, as his revolver clicked sharply.