“To think that once they were all men,” said Rex, in an awed voice, “eating and laughing and loving, too, maybe.”
They are as we should have been tomorrow,” the Duke replied. “What are a few hundred years in all eternity — from dust we come — you know the rest!”
“Yes, that’s about it. Just miles and miles of dust... I think it’s pretty grim — say, isn’t that the hall ahead?”
“I think so. I hope that more than half our journey is done; this heat is positively appalling.”
They emerged into a great open space. The ray from the torch failed to penetrate to the ceiling, nor could they see across to the other side, but other openings into it showed clearly on either hand.
“Puzzle, find the altar,” said Rex.
“Yes, let us try straight over on the other side.”
At that moment Rex trod on another skull. He stumbled against the Duke, who dropped the torch with a clatter. The light went out and the heavy darkness closed in upon them.
The blackness was so intense that they could almost imagine that they felt it pressing on their hands and faces.
“Sorry,” gasped Rex, I trod on some bird’s brain-box.”
“Stay where you are,” ordered the Duke, sharply. “Let me find the torch.” He groped on the floor, his fingers came in contact with the bearded head. He kicked it aside impatiently, and his fingers found the torch. As he stood up he pressed the button... no light appeared... he pressed it again. Still nothing but that inky darkness pressing round them.
For a moment he said nothing, as all the horror of the situation dawned on his mind. How was it possible to find their way in this impenetrable blackness without a ray of light? The atmosphere would sap their vitality and deaden their power of thought.... In a few hours they would go mad. Shrieking through the hollow darkness, frantically trying turning after turning in these miles of caves. The horror of thirst would come upon them in this awful heat — already he found himself passing his tongue over his dry lips. Better even to go back, if they could find their way, and face the rifles of the Red Guards in the morning than the creeping certainty of insanity as well as death in this vast grave, to be found, perhaps years later, mummified like the rest, clawing the ground in an extremity of thirst and terror.
He turned to where he knew Rex to be standing. Monseigneur le Duc de Richleau had never yet lost his head, and he knew that now, if ever, his life depended upon his keeping it, so he spoke quietly.
“Have you the string, Rex?”
“Yes, but why don’t you show a light?”
“It seems to be broken.”
“Pass it over, I’ll see if I can fix it. I’m better acquainted with those things than you.”
De Richleau groped in the gloom till he found Rex’s hand. “Here,” he said, “but whatever you do, don’t let go of that string.”
Rex fumbled with the torch, unscrewing the battery and testing the bulb. “That’s about torn it,” he said. “Bulb’s gone.”
Not a gleam of light showed from any direction as they stood together; the heat seemed to have grown more oppressive than ever in the heavy night-like stillness. A dree, eerie feeling emanated from the knowledge of those rows of corpses standing on either hand.
“Have you no matches?” asked the Duke.
“No, those thieving Bolshies stripped me of every blame’ thing I had. How in heck are we going to get out of here?”
“I wish I knew,” replied De Richleau, anxiously. “Let us try groping our way round the big chamber — we may be able to find the altar by touch.”
“O.K. You go to the left, I’ll go to the right.”
“No, no, once we are separated we should have endless trouble to come together again; you have no idea how deceptive voices are in a place like this. Here, take hold of my belt — and remember, our lives may hang on your keeping firm hold on that piece of string.”
“Just as you say,” Rex agreed.
They moved carefully to the left; De Richleau stretched out his hand and it came in contact with one of the monk’s coarse robes; he knew that they must still be in the entrance to the passage — he moved on and then felt another — then bare wall. That must be the chamber. He followed the wall until it ended, touching another figure on the corner — that must be the entrance to the next passage. He stepped forward boldly, praying that there were no pits. His hand touched silky human hair — a beard. He withdrew it sharply, moving quickly to the right; once more the wall.
“Gosh, it’s hot down here,” Rex gasped.
“Frightful, isn’t it?” De Richleau was feeling up and down the wall for any trace of ledge that might mean an altar. There was nothing... he passed on. A few paces farther he encountered another mummy, and stepped out into the open again; this time he had judged the width of the passage more accurately and touched the wall again. Once more he searched for the altar, but failed to find it. He moved on — the wall seemed to continue ever so much farther this time.
“We’ve gone off the track,” said Rex, suddenly.
“No, we haven’t passed another corner.”
“My sense of direction’s pretty good; believe me, we’ve passed out of the big hall.”
The Duke was troubled, but he walked on. “I think you’re wrong, my friend. There are no mummies here, so we cannot be in a passage.”
“All right — go ahead, but I’ll lay I’m right.”
They proceeded, the black gloom engulfing them on every side. Rex spoke again:
“Honest, you’re going all wrong — air’s closer here than ever, and the floor’s sloping a bit on the down grade. What little I saw of that crypt place showed it flat.”
De Richleau swore softly in the darkness; he had to admit that Rex seemed to be right. “We’d better go back to the last mummy,” he said, “and start all over again.”
With Rex leading this time, they retraced their footsteps, winding in the twine as they went. From time to time he felt along the wall.
“Ugh,” he exclaimed, with a sudden shudder. There was a loud plop, and something moved in the darkness at their feet.
“This place gives me the creeps.”
“What was it?” asked the Duke.
“A man’s head,” said Rex briefly.
“Never mind, we’ve found the last mummy that we passed. Let us start again from here — take my belt.”
The Duke stepped out in a different direction this time, walking slowly forward with arms outstretched like a blind man. They must have covered fifty yards when he came to a sudden halt.
“Found anything?” said Rex.
“More of these filthy monks,” muttered De Richleau furiously. “May they rot in hell. I don’t know if we’re in the chamber or in a passage now.”
“Can that,” snapped Rex, “‘tisn’t good to speak ill of the dead.... I’m sorry,” he added, in a different tone, “I didn’t mean just that, but this graveyard’s getting my nerves all upset.”
“We will try the other way,” the Duke suggested, quietly. In a few paces he had walked into a blank wall. “I think we will rest for a little,” he said, wearily. “I confess I haven’t the faintest idea where we are.”
They sat down with their backs to the wall; despair was creeping over both of them.
Rex loosened his clothing at the neck. “If only we could get a breath of air,” he sighed; “we’ll asphyxiate before we’re done.”
His head was splitting. For a little time they sat in silence. Then he asked: “How long d’you reckon we’ve been fumbling round since we lost the light?”
“Three-quarters of an hour; an hour, perhaps. It seems longer, but I don’t think it can be more.”