“Did you notice that box he had slung on his shoulder?  That belongs to me.  I left it in the gun-room when I went to lunch.  He must have crept in and stolen it.  Doubtless he thinks that it, too, is full of treasure.”

“He does!”

“How on earth do you know?” asked Adam.

“A little while ago he offered to give it to me—­another bribe to accept him.  Faugh!  I am ashamed to tell you such a thing.  The beast!”

Whilst they had been speaking, she had opened the door, a narrow iron one, well hung, for it opened easily and closed tightly without any creaking or sound of any kind.  Within all was dark; but she entered as freely and with as little misgiving or restraint as if it had been broad daylight.  For Adam, there was just sufficient green light from somewhere for him to see that there was a broad flight of heavy stone steps leading upward; but Lady Arabella, after shutting the door behind her, when it closed tightly without a clang, tripped up the steps lightly and swiftly.  For an instant all was dark, but there came again the faint green light which enabled him to see the outlines of things.  Another iron door, narrow like the first and fairly high, led into another large room, the walls of which were of massive stones, so closely joined together as to exhibit only one smooth surface.  This presented the appearance of having at one time been polished.  On the far side, also smooth like the walls, was the reverse of a wide, but not high, iron door.  Here there was a little more light, for the high-up aperture over the door opened to the air.

Lady Arabella took from her girdle another small key, which she inserted in a keyhole in the centre of a massive lock.  The great bolt seemed wonderfully hung, for the moment the small key was turned, the bolts of the great lock moved noiselessly and the iron doors swung open.  On the stone steps outside stood Oolanga, with the mongoose box slung over his shoulder.  Lady Arabella stood a little on one side, and the African, accepting the movement as an invitation, entered in an obsequious way.  The moment, however, that he was inside, he gave a quick look around him.

“Much death here—­big death.  Many deaths.  Good, good!”

He sniffed round as if he was enjoying the scent.  The matter and manner of his speech were so revolting that instinctively Adam’s hand wandered to his revolver, and, with his finger on the trigger, he rested satisfied that he was ready for any emergency.

There was certainly opportunity for the nigger’s enjoyment, for the open well-hole was almost under his nose, sending up such a stench as almost made Adam sick, though Lady Arabella seemed not to mind it at all.  It was like nothing that Adam had ever met with.  He compared it with all the noxious experiences he had ever had—­the drainage of war hospitals, of slaughter-houses, the refuse of dissecting rooms.  None of these was like it, though it had something of them all, with, added, the sourness of chemical waste and the poisonous effluvium of the bilge of a water-logged ship whereon a multitude of rats had been drowned.