This was all, except a coat dangling from a beam, and a small
hand-hatchet lying on the floor. There was, in the instant I had to
view these things, no semblance of movement, or suggestion of human
presence. Assured of this, although holding myself alert and ready, I
slipped through the opening. Even as I stood there, uncertain, and
staring about, a sharp draught of air extinguished the candle, and I
heard the snap of the lock as the door behind blew back into position.
About me was the black silence of a grave.
CHAPTER XIX
A CHAMBER OF HORROR
I backed against the wall, crouching low, revolver in hand, scarcely
venturing to breathe, listening intently for the slightest sound to
break the intense silence. My heart beat like a trip-hammer, and there
were beads of cold perspiration on my face. The change had occurred so
swiftly as to leave me quaking like a coward at the unknown terrors of
the dark. Yet almost within the instant I gripped my nerves,
comprehending all that had occurred, and confident of my own safety.
There must be another opening into this underground den--one leading to
the outer air--judging from that sudden and powerful suction. The very
atmosphere I breathed had a freshness to it, inconceivable in such a
place otherwise.
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