They moved carefully to the left; De Richleau stretched out his hand and it came in contact with one of the monk’s coarse robes; he knew that they must still be in the entrance to the passage — he moved on and then felt another — then bare wall. That must be the chamber. He followed the wall until it ended, touching another figure on the corner — that must be the entrance to the next passage. He stepped forward boldly, praying that there were no pits. His hand touched silky human hair — a beard. He withdrew it sharply, moving quickly to the right; once more the wall.
“Gosh, it’s hot down here,” Rex gasped.
“Frightful, isn’t it?” De Richleau was feeling up and down the wall for any trace of ledge that might mean an altar. There was nothing... he passed on. A few paces farther he encountered another mummy, and stepped out into the open again; this time he had judged the width of the passage more accurately and touched the wall again. Once more he searched for the altar, but failed to find it. He moved on — the wall seemed to continue ever so much farther this time.
“We’ve gone off the track,” said Rex, suddenly.
“No, we haven’t passed another corner.”
“My sense of direction’s pretty good; believe me, we’ve passed out of the big hall.”
The Duke was troubled, but he walked on. “I think you’re wrong, my friend. There are no mummies here, so we cannot be in a passage.”
“All right — go ahead, but I’ll lay I’m right.”
They proceeded, the black gloom engulfing them on every side. Rex spoke again:
“Honest, you’re going all wrong — air’s closer here than ever, and the floor’s sloping a bit on the down grade. What little I saw of that crypt place showed it flat.”