"
"When I was on the p'int of offering to go with ye!"
"Ho! Was you? Very well, then, I accept the offer, an' you can walk
first."
"But I don't see--"
"Another word," announced Mr. Jope firmly, "an' you won't! _For I'll
blow out the candle_."
Mr. Adams surrendered, and tottered to the door. They passed out,
and through the vaulted kitchen, and along the slate-flagged
corridor--very slowly here, for a draught fluttered the candle flame,
and Mr. Jope had to shield it with a shaking palm. Once with a
hoarse "What's that?" Mr. Adams halted and cast himself into a
posture of defence--against his own shadow, black and amorphous,
wavering on the wall.
They came to the iron-studded door.
"Open, you," commanded Mr. Jope under his breath. "And not too fast,
mind--there was a breeze o' wind blowin' this arternoon. Steady does
it--look out for the step, an' then straight forw--"
A howl drowned the last word, as Mr. Adams struck his shin against
some obstacle and pitched headlong into darkness--a howl of pain
blent with a dull jarring rumble. Silence followed, and out of the
silence broke a faint groan.
"Bill! Bill Adams! Oh, Bill, for the Lord's sake--!"
Still mechanically shielding his candle, Mr.
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