There was nothing to be seen. The ground presented an
absolutely unbroken appearance, so far as they could make out in the
moon's rays.
"Clever devils!" snapped out Cleek, in angry tribute. "We'll have to use
artificial light after all; but keep your torch light on the ground. It
won't do for any one to spot us just now."
For perhaps a moment or two they explored the ground inch by inch,
crawling round in the long grass upon their hands and knees, until a
little tuft of brown earth sticking up through a piece of turf, like the
upturned corner of a rug, showed them what they were looking for. With
infinite care Cleek lifted up the square of turf and set it upon one
side. The sight of the flat dark surface of the trap-door rewarded them.
He ran his fingers along the two sides of it, and discovered a bolt, shot
this, and then catching the iron ring once more in his hands, swung the
top upward and laid it back upon the grass.
A minute more found them once more in the cavernous, breathless depths.
Cleek handed the torch to Dollops.
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