Dean found himself descending a flight of steps—ten in number, for he took the trouble to count them. He was getting more and more mystified, and would have given a good deal to remove the handkerchief that bandaged his eyes, but it was impossible to do it even surreptitiously, for both arms were pinioned by his guides. At the end of the flight of steps they came again to level ground, and walked forward perhaps a hundred feet. Dean suspected from the earthy odor that they were under the ground. He soon learned that his supposition was correct, for his guides halted, and loosened their hold upon his arms.
"You can remove the handkerchief now," said Kirby.
Dean lost no time in availing himself of this permission.
He looked around him eagerly.
He found himself in what appeared to be not a natural, but an artificial cave—dark, save for the light of a kerosene lamp, which was placed on a little rocky shelf, and diffused a sickly light about the cellar. At the end of the room there was a passage leading, as it seemed, to some inner apartment.
Dean looked about in surprise.
"What place is this?" he asked.
"You may call it a cave if you like."
"How long are you going to stay here?"
"About five minutes."