That night, while strolling in a back street of the lower town, they
discovered a tunnel running into the cliff. At its mouth was a
turnstile.

"Shades of Avernus! What's this?" asked Leighton.

Lewis inquired of the gateman.

"It's an elevator to the upper town," he said.

They paid their fare and walked into the long tunnel. At its end they
found a prehistoric elevator and a terrific stench. Leighton clapped his
handkerchief to his nose and dived into the waiting car. Lewis followed
him. An attendant started the car, and slowly they crept up and up, two
hundred feet, to the crest of the cliff. As they emerged, Leighton let
go a mighty breath.

"Holy mackerel!" he said, "and what was that? Ugh! it's here yet!"

The attendant explained. At the bottom of the shaft was a pit into which
sank the great chains of the car. The pit was full of crude castor-oil,
cheapest and best of lubricants.

"My boy," said Leighton, as he led the way at a rapid stride toward the
hotel, "never confuse the picturesque with the ugly. I can stand a bit
of local color in the way of smells, but there's such a thing as going
too far, and that went it. We'll prepare at once to leave this town.
Would you like to go north or south?"