“As you like, Sir,” responded Solomon, civilly; but his thick lips curled contemptuously, and he muttered, “So this man is lily-livered after all; so much the better:  it is well to have a coward for a partner.”

The next moment his descending form was lost in the gloom.

Balfour waited, torch in hand, until an “All right,” that sounded like a voice from the tomb, assured him that his companion had reached terra firma.  Then he descended very carefully, and joined him.

“Stand close to the wall, Sir, while I move the ladder,” said Coe; “your head don’t seem made for these deep places.  Ah, here’s the spot.  This is a drop of twenty feet.”

“And what is the depth of the last level?”

“Five-and-twenty.  But don’t you be afraid; the ladder will just reach it, only you won’t have so much to hold on by at the top.  It’s only the getting down that’s unpleasant; you’ll find going back quite easy work.  And then, just think of the lode!”

Solomon began to be anxious lest his companion’s fears should induce him to give up the expedition altogether.  It had never entered into his mind that what was so easy to himself could prove so formidable to another; and, besides, he had somehow concluded that Balfour was a man of strong nerves.

“Make haste,” said the latter, in the tone of one who has achieved some mental victory:  “let us go through with it.”

In the second level it was perceptibly warmer.  Dark, noiseless objects began to flit about the torch, and once something soft struck against Balfour’s foot, and then scampered away.

He looked behind him, and not a trace of light was to be discerned, while before him was impenetrable gloom, except for the feeble gleam of his companion’s lantern.  Above him the roof was just discernible, from which long strings of fungi, white and clammy, hung down and brushed against his face as he moved slowly forward.

“Come on!” said Solomon, impatiently, whose spirits seemed to rise in this familiar scene.  “We are only a few score yards from Golconda.”

Balfour stopped short.  “I thought you said there was another level?” There was a strange look of disappointment in his face, and even of rage.

“Yes, yes, and here it is,” cried the other, putting down the ladder, which he had carried from place to place.  “It is only depth that separates us from it.  They dug well, those Romans, but left off, as you shall see, upon the very threshold of fortune.  You have only to be a little careful, because the ladder does not quite reach.”

He descended, as before, in advance, while Balfour followed slowly and cautiously.  “How steep and smooth the rock is!” observed he, examining its surface.

“Yes, indeed; it is like a wall of marble.  But what matters that?  It baffles the rats, but not us.  Here is the land of gold, here is—­What the devil are you at?”

Solomon, in his impatience, had stridden on to the object of his desires; and Balfour, halting midway in his descent, suddenly retraced his footsteps, and having reached the top, was dragging the ladder up after him.