"Yes," replied the Beadle. "He is travelling in No Nightmare Land...." The Beadle laughed.
But Emilet was alarmed.
"You haven't snuffed him out, have you?"
"No danger of it! He's only shamming!"
"Off, then!" said Emilet.
They rolled away at top speed.
The bandits' lair had been well chosen by their chiefs. It was a vast cellar, with a vaulted roof, and earthen walls bedewed with an icy humidity. Axes, mattocks, shovels, rakes, and watering cans lay scattered on the ground: these were worn out tools: they had not served their purpose for many a day.
The lantern, a kind of cresset protected by a wire globe, was suspended from the roof by a string. It shed a faint and wavering light, creating weird shadows in that far-stretching space, too vast for the insufficient illumination.
Directly beneath the cresset lantern, inside the circle of light it threw upon the ground, a fantastic group of human creatures pressed close to one another, drinking, shouting, chattering, singing.