It led to a stone
stair, which I descended; the stair ended in another passage, or rather
tunnel, also hewn out of the bed-rock, and running, so far as I could
judge, exactly beneath the gallery that led to the entrance of our
rooms, and across the great central cave. I went on down it: it was as
silent as the grave, but still, drawn by some sensation or attraction
that I cannot define, I followed on, my stockinged feet falling without
noise on the smooth and rocky floor. When I had traversed some fifty
yards of space, I came to another passage running at right angles, and
here an awful thing happened to me: the sharp draught caught my lamp
and extinguished it, leaving me in utter darkness in the bowels of that
mysterious place. I took a couple of strides forward so as to clear the
bisecting tunnel, being terribly afraid lest I should turn up it in
the dark if once I got confused as to the direction, and then paused to
think. What was I to do? I had no match; it seemed awful to attempt that
long journey back through the utter gloom, and yet I could not stand
there all night, and, if I did, probably it would not help me much, for
in the bowels of the rock it would be as dark at midday as at midnight.
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