Finally, also, Detroit Jim turned the pick over to the old man, who, feeling in the blackness with his hands, discovered the span as wide as his outstretched arms, from which Detroit Jim had removed the bricks.  It was a span of yielding earth into which the old man now dug his pick.  As he worked, the loosened dirt fell upon him, upon his head, into his eyes and nose and ears....

Abruptly the old man’s pick struck the flagging above them!  Detroit Jim mounted upon the pile of bricks and shoved Anderson aside.

Jim felt along the edges of the stone clear around.  It seemed to measure about three feet by two, and to be of slate, and probably held in place only by its contact with other stones, or by cement between the stones.  No light appeared through the crevices.  Detroit Jim took from his pocket a huge pocket-knife and with the longest blade poked up between the main stone and the one adjoining.  The blade met resistance.

Ultimately, and abruptly, however, the blade shot through to the hilt of the knife.  Jim drew it back instantly.  No light came through the crevice.

“I smell good air,” he whispered, “but I can’t see a thing.  It must be night!”

They knew now what to do.  The flagging must be removed at once, before any one should go by!  The hole would be big enough to let them out!  Old Man Andersen’s heart leaped.  It was over.  They had won.  Trust him to go where they’d never get him for the Slattery business!  As for Detroit Jim, he already knew the next big trick that he would pull off—­out in Cleveland!

Ultimately, as Detroit Jim worked upon it, the stone began to sag.  An edge caught upon the adjacent flagging.  The two men, perched upon the wobbly bricks, manipulated the stone, working it loose, until, finally, it came crashing down.

The stone had made noise enough, it seemed, to wake the dead; yet above them there was no sound.  Swiftly they raised the flagging and set it securely upon the heap of bricks.  When Detroit Jim stood upon this improvised platform his head was level with the aperture they had made.  He could see no sky, no stars, could feel no wind, discover no light such as pervades even the darkest night.

“Good God!” he breathed.  His fingers went out over the flagging.  His knife dropped.  The tinkle echoed dully down the conduit.  He stooped to where Old Man Anderson stood, breathing hard.

“It’s a—­a room!” he whispered.

“A—­a room?” repeated Old Man Anderson dully.

“Come!  After me!  Up!  I’ll pull you up!”

Detroit Jim, being wiry, swung himself up, and then bent down, groping for the old man’s hands.  Winded, panting, exhausted, the two men stood at last in this new blackness, clutching each other, their ears strained to catch the slightest sound.

“For God’s sake, don’t fall down that hole now!” hissed Detroit Jim.  “Listen.  We’ll both crawl together till we get to a wall.  Then you feel along one way, and whisper to me what you find, and I’ll crawl the other.  Look for a window or a door—­some way out!  We’ll come together finally.  Are you ready?”