“Much more likely to be another room,” said Sir Henry, while he descended slowly, counting the steps as he went.

When he got to “fifteen” he stopped.  “Here’s the bottom,” he said.  “Thank goodness!  I think it’s a passage.  Follow me down.”

Good went next, and I came last, carrying the basket, and on reaching the bottom lit one of the two remaining matches.  By its light we could just see that we were standing in a narrow tunnel, which ran right and left at right angles to the staircase we had descended.  Before we could make out any more, the match burnt my fingers and went out.  Then arose the delicate question of which way to go.  Of course, it was impossible to know what the tunnel was, or where it led to, and yet to turn one way might lead us to safety, and the other to destruction.  We were utterly perplexed, till suddenly it struck Good that when I had lit the match the draught of the passage blew the flame to the left.

“Let us go against the draught,” he said; “air draws inwards, not outwards.”

We took this suggestion, and feeling along the wall with our hands, whilst trying the ground before us at every step, we departed from that accursed treasure chamber on our terrible quest for life.  If ever it should be entered again by living man, which I do not think probable, he will find tokens of our visit in the open chests of jewels, the empty lamp, and the white bones of poor Foulata.

When we had groped our way for about a quarter of an hour along the passage, suddenly it took a sharp turn, or else was bisected by another, which we followed, only in course of time to be led into a third.  And so it went on for some hours.  We seemed to be in a stone labyrinth that led nowhere.  What all these passages are, of course I cannot say, but we thought that they must be the ancient workings of a mine, of which the various shafts and adits travelled hither and thither as the ore led them.  This is the only way in which we could account for such a multitude of galleries.

At length we halted, thoroughly worn out with fatigue and with that hope deferred which maketh the heart sick, and ate up our poor remaining piece of biltong and drank our last sup of water, for our throats were like lime-kilns.  It seemed to us that we had escaped Death in the darkness of the treasure chamber only to meet him in the darkness of the tunnels.

As we stood, once more utterly depressed, I thought that I caught a sound, to which I called the attention of the others.  It was very faint and very far off, but it was a sound, a faint, murmuring sound, for the others heard it too, and no words can describe the blessedness of it after all those hours of utter, awful stillness.

“By heaven! it’s running water,” said Good.  “Come on.”