“Here,” he cried as he passed.  “I haven’t time to listen to your story, but here is my card.  I have no change about me.  Call upon me to-morrow and I will attend to your needs.”

The card fluttered to my side, and, not being a mendicant, I paid little attention to it, preferring to watch this fast-disappearing figure until I should see whither it was going.  Arriving at the far end of the cavern, the hurrying figure stopped and apparently pushed a button at the side of the wall.  Immediately an iron door, which I had not before perceived, was pushed aside.  The dark figure disappeared into what seemed to be a well-lighted elevator, and was promptly lifted out of sight.  All became dark again, and I was frankly puzzled.  This was a situation beyond my ken.  What it could mean I could not surmise, and in the hope of finding a clew to the mystery I groped about in the darkness for the card which the hurried individual had cast at me with his words of encouragement.  Ultimately I found it, but was unable to decipher its inscription, if perchance it had one.  Nevertheless, I managed to keep my spirits up.  This, I think, was a Herculean task, considering the darkness and my extreme lonesomeness.  I can be happy under adverse circumstances, if only I have congenial company.  But to lie alone, in a black cavern, prey only to the thoughts of my environment, thoughts suggesting all things apart from life, thoughts which send the mind over the past a thousand centuries removed—­these are not comforting, and these were the only thoughts vouchsafed to me.

A half-hour was thus passed in the darkness, and then the light appeared again, and I resolved, though little strength was left to me, to seek out its source.  I stood up and staggered towards it, and as I drew nearer observed that the illumination came from nothing more nor less than an elevator at the bottom of a shaft, the magnitude of which I could not, of course, at the moment determine.

The boy in charge was a pretty little chap, and, if I may so state it, was absolutely unclad, but about his shoulders was slung a strap which in turn held a leathern bag, which, to my eyes, suggested a golf-bag more than anything else, except that it was filled with arrows instead of golf-clubs.

“How do you do?” said I, politely.  “Whose caddy are you?”

“Very well,” said the little lad.  “Not much to brag of, however.  Merely bobbish, pretty bobbish.  In answer to your second question, I take pleasure in informing you,” he added, “that I am everybody’s caddy.”

“You are—­the elevator boy?” I queried, with some hesitation.

“That is my present position,” said he.

“And, ah, whither do you elevate, my lad?”

[Illustration:  In the elevator]

“Up!” said he, after the manner of one who does not wish to commit himself, like most elevator boys.  “But whom do you wish to see?” he demanded, trying hard to frown and succeeding only in making a ludicrous exhibition of himself.