“Here is the wall. Now to climb it. Didn’t uncle say we should find two stanchions? Was it on the right or on the left? Here they are, on the right; at least, I suppose they’re stanchions. They feel like two pieces of iron driven into the brickwork. Now for a climb. One good thing—the wall isn’t high.”
Since I could only perceive her dim outline, and didn’t wish to have her vanish altogether in the darkness, I had kept my hand on her. I could feel, rather than see, her going through the motions of climbing. I was conscious she had reached the top.
“Now, Emily, you come. It’s easy; give me your hand.”
I gave her my hand. In a second or two I was beside her, on the crest of the wall.
“Now let’s go together, it’s nothing of a drop.”
As she said, it was nothing of a drop, and we went together. I suppose the wall was not much, if at all, over five feet in height. We landed on what felt like a pavement of bricks.
“It’s a pity it’s so dark. Here it’s worse than ever. I can’t see my hand before my face, can you?”
I could not. I told her so.
“Well, we’ll have to feel, that’s all; and we’ll hope that we’re in the right backyard. It would be something more than a joke if we weren’t; they might take us for burglars. Come on; give me your hand again; we’ll feel our way—tread carefully whatever you do. Hollo! here is a door. And—Emily, there’s the spot of light! Do you see it there upon the door? As uncle says, it shines at us. Whether it’s luminous paint, or whether it’s something much more wonderful, truly, it lightens our darkness. Doesn’t it, my dear? Where is that key?”
I could see, straight in front of us, a round spot of something which gleamed. It was not bigger than a threepenny piece. It might have been a monster glow-worm. Or, as Polly said, a dab of luminous paint. But there was no time to ascertain what it was, because, almost as soon as I saw it, I heard something too.