He nodded. "Right you are. Don't forget there's a female Dago about somewhere. She might be nasty."
He leant down over the writhing figure on the floor, and without waiting any further, I hurried out into the hall.
For a second I hesitated, wondering whether to go upstairs or to search the back regions first. The latter seemed the most likely spot, so crossing the hall and pushing open the baize door, I entered the passage up which we had so lately crept.
The first door on the right, where we had heard the clock ticking, proved to be the kitchen. It was empty, except for a solitary cat that arched her back and spat at me from the window-sill.
I gave a hurried glance round, then stepped back into the passage.
"Mercia!" I shouted. "Mercia!"
From the end of the corridor came a faint, stifled sound, like the cry of someone buried alive.
Two savage strides and I had reached the spot—a worm-eaten trap-door in the floor fastened down by a wooden bar. In my furious haste, I wrenched the thing off bodily, and then gripping the ring with both hands tore away the flap.
A short flight of stone steps met my gaze. I cleared them with a reckless jump, and the next moment, in the close, warm darkness, Mercia was in my arms.
"Ah," she cried, "it's you, it's you!" and I could feel her dear hand moving up and down my sleeve with a sobbing, half-incredulous joy. Then, somehow, our lips met, and all the barriers between us went down like matchwood in that first passionate kiss. I drew her up into the passage, and gazed hungrily into her white face. She was trembling violently, and my own hands were shaking like leaves.