"Now I wonder what the
dickens?..."
His voice trailed off suddenly, and he stood a moment absolutely still,
every nerve in his slim young body taut as wire, every muscle rigid. For
along the passage--not so very far in front of them, from where it seemed
to terminate--came the thud of men's feet upon the soft clayey ground.
The torch went out in an instant. In another, Cleek had caught Dollops's
arm and drawn him into the narrow aperture, where, with faces to the
wall, they stood tense and rigid, listening while the steps came nearer
and nearer. They waited in the darkness, as men in the _Bonnet Rouge_
days must have waited for the stroke of Madame Guillotine.
... The footsteps came forward leisurely. The intruders could hear the
sound of muffled voices. One, brief, concise, clipping its words short,
and with a note of cool authority in the low tones; the other--Dollops
huddled his shoulders closer and contrived to whisper "Black Whiskers"
before the two men came abreast of them. Strange to be walking thus
comfortably in the dark! Either they were sure of their way that it
didn't matter about having a light, or else they were afraid to use a
torch.
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