He turned to Selwyn.
“I'll go up,” he said. “You can't do anything with that arm of yours.”
“I can help,” maintained Dick stoutly.
Garth shook his head.
“No. If you slipped amongst the mess there'll be up there, I'd have two cripples on my hands instead of one. You stay here and look after the women—and get one of them to fix you up a temporary splint.”
The two men moved forward, the women pressing eagerly behind them; then, as the light from Garth's lantern steamed ahead there came an instantaneous outcry of dismay.
The whole stairway was twisted and askew. It had a ludicrously drunken look, as though it were lolling up against the wall—like a staircase in a picture of which the perspective is all wrong.
“It isn't safe!” exclaimed Selwyn quickly. “You can't go up. We shall have to wait till help comes.”
“I'm going up—now,” said Garth quietly.
“But it isn't safe, man! Those stairs won't bear you!”