TRAPPED
Atherton stood stock still, his eyes fixed upon the small suggestive muzzle of a revolver levelled at his head. It was horribly disconcerting. He was unable to go forward; his movements were hampered. Nor could he retreat with the possibilities of being shot at staring him in the face.
The tension was acute whilst it lasted, but the Scout was greatly relieved to hear the voice of Polglaze, the detective, exclaim:
"In the name of thunder what have you Scouts been up to?"
Atherton hastened to complete the awkward crawl through the opening, the rest of his companions following.
The detective, with wonderment written on every line of his face, examined the revolving stonework, patting it with his hands and testing the cunningly concealed mechanism.
"Well, this beats everything," he exclaimed. "I've been investigating this room for hours, tried the floor, walls and ceiling, and not a suspicion of a secret passage did I discover, Yet, from a logical point of view, there must have been some means of escape other than by the door, which was locked. How on earth did you fellows find this out?"
"We walked along a tunnel from Seal Island," explained Atherton. "It leads to the ruins in the centre of the Island. And we've found some of the booty, Mr Polglaze."
"You have?" The detective's jaw dropped slightly. Visions of a substantial reward slipping through his fingers accounted for his tone of disappointment. "Where?"
"In a side passage out of the main tunnel. There's a large silver bowl at the bottom of these steps, and each of us have smaller articles."