It was a time of breathless suspense as Rex went carefully over every inch of the door, examining niche and corner in the hope of discovering the secret of the spring by which it was moved. The grating was rusty with age, and had evidently stuck in the position in which he had found it an hour before, when his vigorous shakings had loosened the springs by which it was moved. Try as he might, however, he could not succeed in moving it a second time; there was no sign of knob or handle; he could find no clue to its working.
“It’s no use, Rex,” said Norah feebly. “You will have to give it up.” But the lad’s indomitable will would not permit him to agree in any such conclusion.
“I will never give it up!” he cried loudly. “I brought you into this place, and I’ll get you out of it, if I have to break every bar with my own hands—if I have to pick the stones out of the wall! Move along a few yards; I’m going to lie down on my back, and try what kicking will do.”
No sooner said than done. Rex stretched himself at full length on the ground, moved up and down to get at the right distance, and began to assail the grating with a series of such violent kicks as woke a babel of subterranean echoes. Not in vain he had been the crack “kick” of the football team at school; not in vain had he exercised his muscles ever since childhood in scrambling over mountain heights, and taking part in vigorous out-of-door sports. Norah clasped her hands in a tremor of excitement. It seemed to her that no fastenings in the world could long withstand such a battery, and when Rex suddenly sprang to his feet and charged at the door, she fairly shrieked with exultation.
“Go on! Go on! It shakes! I’m sure it shakes! Oh, Rex, kick! kick for your life!” It was a superfluous entreaty. The strength of ten men seemed to be concentrated in the lad for the next ten minutes, as he fought the iron grating, changing from one position to another, as signs of increasing weakness appeared in different parts of the framework. Norah gasped out encouragement in the background, until at last, with a crash and bang, the old springs gave way, and the grating fell to the ground.
“Now—come!” shouted Rex. He did not waste a moment in rejoicing; now that the barrier was removed both he and Norah were possessed with but one longing—to get out of the passage as quickly as possible into light, and air, and safety. Two minutes later they were seated side by side on one of the beams of timber on the cellar floor, gazing into each other’s face with distended eyes. Rex was purple with the strain of his late efforts—his breath came pantingly, his hair lay in damp rings on his forehead. Norah’s face was ghastly white; she was trembling from head to foot.
“Thank God!” said Rex solemnly. They were his first words, and Norah bent her head with a little sob of agitation.
“Oh, thank God! We might have been buried alive in that awful place.”
Rex took out his handkerchief and mopped his forehead, looking anxiously at his companion the while. “You don’t think you will be ill, do you, Norah? You look horribly white.”
“Oh no!—oh no! I shall be all right in an hour, but I shall never forget it. Rex, I think we ought to be awfully good all our lives—we have had such a wonderful escape, and we know now how it feels— When I thought I was never going to come out of that passage, I was sorry I had been cross to Hilary, and—so selfish! I made up my mind if I had another chance—”