"My lord may trust me."
"It seems to me I have—too far."
"My lord will not forget?"
"Be sure of that, Dulla Dad…. Well, what are you waiting for?"
"We are arrived, hazoor," said the native calmly. "If you will be pleased to step ashore, having care lest you overturn the boat, the steps are on your left."
"Where?… Oh!" Amber's tentative hand, groping in obscurity, fell upon a slab of stone, smooth and slippery, but solid. "You mean here?"
"Aye, hazoor."
"And what next?"
"I am to wait to conduct you back to your place of rest."
"Um-m. You are, eh?" Amber, doubtful, tried the stone again; it was substantial enough; only the boat rocked. He struck a match; the short-lived flame afforded him a feeble, unsatisfactory impression of a long, narrow, vaulted chamber, whereof the floor was half water, half stone. There was a landing to the left, a rather narrow ledge, with a low, heavy door, bossed with iron, in the wall beyond.