He stretched his foot across, placed it in the niche and began to descend.

“Kennedy next!” came his muffled voice, “with the lamp.  Its light will enable you others to see the way.”

Down went Kennedy without hesitation, the lamp swung from his right arm.

“I will bring up the rear,” said Sir Lionel Barton.

Whereupon I descended.  I had climbed down about half-way when, from below, came a loud cry, a sound of scuffling, and a savage exclamation from Smith.  Then——­

“We’re right, Petrie!  This passage was recently used by Fu-Manchu!”

I gained the bottom of the well, and found myself standing in the entrance to an arched passage.  Kennedy was directing the light of the lamp down upon the floor.

“You see, the door was guarded” said Nayland Smith.

“What!”

“Puff adder!” he snapped, and indicated a small snake whose head was crushed beneath his heel.

Sir Lionel now joined us; and, a silent quartette, we stood staring from the dead reptile into the damp and evil-smelling tunnel.  A distant muttering and rumbling rolled, echoing awesomely along it.

“For Heaven’s sake what was that, sir?” whispered Kennedy.

“It was the thunder,” answered Nayland Smith.  “The storm is breaking over the hills.  Steady with the lamp, my man.”

We had proceeded for some three hundred yards, and, according to my calculation, were clear of the orchard of Graywater Park and close to the fringe of trees beyond; I was taking note of the curious old brickwork of the passage, when—­

“Look out, sir!” cried Kennedy—­and the light began dancing madly.  “Just under your feet!  Now it’s up the wall!—­mind your hand, Dr. Petrie!”

The lamp was turned, and, since it shone fully into my face, temporarily blinded me.

“On the roof over your head, Barton!”—­this from Nayland Smith.  “What can we kill it with?”

Now my sight was restored to me, and looking back along the passage, I saw, clinging to an irregularity in the moldy wall, the most gigantic scorpion I had ever set eyes upon!  It was fully as large as my open hand.

Kennedy and Nayland Smith were stealthily retracing their steps, the former keeping the light directed upon the hideous insect, which now began running about with that horrible, febrile activity characteristic of the species.  Suddenly came a sharp, staccato report....  Sir Lionel had scored a hit with his Browning pistol.

In waves of sound, the report went booming along the passage.  The lamp, as I have said, was turned in order to shine back upon us, rendering the tunnel ahead a mere black mouth—­a veritable inferno, held by inhuman guards.  Into that black cavern I stared, gloomily fascinated by the onward rolling sound storm; into that blackness I looked ... to feel my scalp tingle horrifically, to know the crowning horror of the horrible journey.