In a little cove where the sand was snow white the three girls had drawn their punt high on the beach. Pearl had volunteered to stand guard outside. The other two had begun wending their way over a path that winds between tall grass and bushes to the fort.
Finding themselves at last before a great open stone archway that led directly into the chill damp of the fort, they had paused to listen and to think. The next moment, with a little quickening at her heart, Ruth had led the way into the semi-darkness of a stone corridor, and from there on and on into the deepening darkness. Now, here they were. Ruth had longed to look into that mysterious room. The opening to it was now at her feet, yet she felt more inclined to run away than to linger.
“Can’t you get it?” she whispered again, as no light appeared.
“It’s caught in my pocket. No, now I have it.”
The next instant a yellow light brought out once more the damp and dripping walls of stone with the mysterious opening in the floor at their feet.
“It was hot.” Ruth’s tone was full of awe. “I felt it. I felt hot air on my cheek!”
“So did I.”
Putting out two fingers, Ruth felt the fanning of hot air. “Warm,” she said, “not hot. Just seemed that way. But how could it be?”
“Can’t be a stove?”
“No. Tons of granite above.” Her eyes sought the low stone arch over their heads.