ptain Folsom. "They are out on the roof
already, and shooting and calling to attract help. Come. We have no
time to lose."

Fumbling his way along the dark hall toward the stair door, he said:

"Quick, Hampton, with your light. I can't find the knob. Ah"--as the
light of the little torch winked on--"that's better."

He pulled the door open, and started down the stairs, Jack at his
shoulder and flashing the light ahead. The others crowded at their
heels.

CHAPTER XIV

THROUGH THE TUNNEL

At the foot of the stairway was another door, and this stood open. It
gave upon another hallway, carpeted richly, and dim, yet not so dark
but what Captain Folsom could see his way. This faint illumination
came up a great open stairway from a wide and deep living room below
into which descended another stairway at the far end of the hall.

A male voice, not unmusical, singing a rousing chorus in Italian, and
peering circumspectly through an open balustrade into that lower room,
Captain Folsom saw the singer seated at a great square piano, a giant
of a man with a huge shock of dark brown hair and ferocious mustaches,
while a coal black negro, even huger in size, lolled negligently at
one end of the keyboard, his red lips parted wide in a grin of
enjoyment and ivory white teeth showing between, and at the other end
of the piano, with his elbows planted on the instrument and his head
pressed between his hands, stood or rather leaned a rough-looking man
of medium height, his grizzled hair all awry where he had run his
fingers through it, and wearing a khaki shirt open at the throat.

"Sing that again, Pete. What d'ye call it? The Bull Fighter Song, hey?
Well, I don't know much about music, but that gits under my skin. Come
on."

The man called Pete was about to comply, and the Negro was nodding his
head in violent approval, when the door from the outside gallery was
burst open unceremoniously, and a villainous looking individual
whirled into the room in a state of great excitement. Others were
behind him but, evidently not daring to venture within, stood grouped
in the open doorway.

"Here, Mike, wot d'ye mean, comin' in like this? Into a gentleman's
house, too. Don't ye know any better, ye scut?" demanded the first
speaker, he who had asked for a repetition of the song.

Evidently, thought Captain Folsom, here was the leader, for the other
deferred to him, although it was apparent he was a privileged
character.

"Ah