Moore cocked his head to one side. "Running water," he remarked. "They haven't got a river down—"
A scream, faint and far away, took his breath away. Another sounded, and then a chorus, dimmed by space and the stone walls. Suddenly Ross and Moore whirled to face one another.
"Artana!" cried Ross.
"He's opened the reservoirs!" gasped Moore.
They leaped to their feet. Ross tried the door, savagely. Moore broke the skin of his hands on the stout stone bars of the window. In a moment, water was swirling at their feet.
Moore stared down at it gloomily. "I was two days on a raft in the middle of the Atlantic," he sighed, "and I didn't drown."
The water rose to their knees.
V
Ross tugged at the door. "You aren't drowned yet. How did this door open?"