That meant an appallingly small number of cubic feet of air—and bad air at that—for five people to breathe, assuming that the young Jewess was not yet dead.
As Patsy analyzed his sensations, he became aware of a peculiar and sinister odor, which pervaded the place. For some time he could not identify it, but at length, with a start of horror, he realized its nature.
There was no doubt about it in his mind now, or about the criminality of their captors.
For the odor was that of lime, mingled with a faint stench of decaying animal matter.
That was the way that Patsy put it to himself, at any rate, but he more than suspected that the “animal matter” had been human flesh.
In other words, he was convinced that the place where they had been thrown had previously been used for the purpose of destroying the bodies of previous victims of the vivisectionists. The bodies had apparently been thrown into the old bin and covered with quicklime, which had afterward been removed.
There was only a little fine dust on the concrete floor of the bin now, as Patsy easily ascertained with his bound hands. It must either be lime or coal dust, perhaps a combination of the two; for the young detective had felt the latter sifting down through the cracks above his head as the coal was shoveled over the false bottom.
He could not resist a shudder as he came to this ghastly conclusion. He and his friends were in a veritable charnel house, and if Doctor Grantley had his way, there was little doubt but that quicklime would be heaped over their dead bodies—perhaps over their living ones—before long.
Something must be done, if possible. But what?
Whatever it was to be, it looked as if Patsy must attempt it unaided. Some one else was moving—some one whose body lay partly over Patsy’s. The latter believed it was his chief, but he could not be sure. Moreover, even if it was Nick, Patsy had been in full possession of his senses throughout, and was therefore in a better position to go ahead.