Before their eyes, accustomed to the brightness of early afternoon, in
which all things were actively visible, could sufficiently adjust
themselves to distinguish objects in the shadowy gloom, they were thrust
into a room, the door of which was bolted after them, and they were left
in utter darkness.

"You there, Carrick?" whispered Carter.

"'Ere, sir," came the reply from an invisible neighborhood. "I'm trussed
up like a duck. These bloomin' cords are cuttin' my wrists. It seems to
me, sir," he continued ruefully, "that if we 'ad wanted to be jugged, we
could 'ave gotten the job done easier by styin' in New York. 'Don't like
a man,--to jail with 'im,' seems to be these chaps' motto."

"We're evidently in the bad books of the Gray Man, at any rate,
Carrick."

"I'm onto his gyme, sure's my name's Tod."

"What is it?"

"'E thinks we're spies."

Carter laughed incredulously. "He has put us in a good place, then.
Can't gather much information in this tomb, that is certain. We're
getting into their revolution by the back door, it seems."

"Talkin' about doors," Carrick's whisper radiated with excitement, "I'd
take my oath that I saw one as we came in. It's in the wall to the left
of the entrance and is slightly ajar."

"How close are you to me now?" The Cockney's shoulder touched his by way
of reply. "It is this wall we are leaning against, then?"

"The syme, sir. If you move along to your right about six feet, you'll
be right in front of it."

"We'll try our luck, anyhow," said Carter. "Next-door may not be so much
infested with the darkness of the pit." Carefully groping in the
indicated direction, they found the portal as Carrick had described it.
Their hands being tightly tied, they had to shove it open with their
shoulders. To their anxious ears it seemed impossible that the noise of
its rusty hinges could not be heard on the topmost battlement. The room
which they now entered was lighted by a single casement, high above
their heads. Diagonally opposite, in the wall parallel to the one by
which they stood, was another door, also open.

"Cinch," said Carrick, with a hopeful nod toward the possible avenue of
escape.

"I don't know that," replied the other reflectively. "Suppose we do find
our way out, how could we pass the sentries, videttes, and scouts who
are scouring the country--or should be? We'd have to hide without the
hope of assistance from strangers. What could we do with our hands tied?