McHague scrabbled around in the roots of a bush, found what he wanted, a metal lever hardly distinguishable in the tangle, and yanked it up. His action was followed by a slight vibration underfoot, a heavy, dull ripping of roots sounded in front of them as the ground parted before their eyes. Two balanced sections tilted upward, away from each other, revealing the Stygian blackness of a pit.
"It's a ventilating shaft of one of the old mines. The ship's down there about two hundred feet. It's got a Nordenfeldt control panel. Can you handle it?"
"Sure, but how can I get down?"
"There's a ladder—but wait a minute, Hanson." McHague's heavy-jowled face was ghastly in the dim light. "You've got to play this straight, see. I'm giving you a chance and you've got to stand by me. If Serono knew I was doing this—You've got to get those police here—"
"Don't worry," Brian told him grimly. "Serono is no friend of mine, either. Where's this ladder?"
"Just over the edge on this side."
Crystal laid her hand on Brian's arm.
"Good luck." She started to smile encouragingly, but she couldn't quite make it. "Brian—" Her voice choked up. "Oh, Brian, be careful—" It was almost a sob. Then she was in his arms. He held her for a moment and buried his face in the soft, silver glory of her hair.
"I'll be all right. You take care of yourself till I get back. I won't be long, then we'll get this mess cleaned up."
He disengaged himself gently. Crystal watched in silence as Brian clambered over the edge and disappeared into the blackness of the shaft. Minutes dragged slowly by.