I'm going to show a light."

Hill still stood without stirring a muscle. His back was to the door. He
faced the direction of the voice.

Suddenly, like the glare from an explosion, a light flashed in his eyes,
blinding him after the utter dark. He flinched from it in spite of
himself, but the next moment he was his own master again, erect and
stern, contemptuously unafraid.

"Don't shoot!" said Bill Warden, with a gleam of his teeth, "or maybe
you'll shoot a friend!"

He was standing empty-handed save for the torch he carried, his great
figure upright against the wall, facing Hill with speculation in his
eyes.

Hill lowered his revolver. "I doubt it," he said, grimly.

"Ah! You don't know me yet, do you?" said Warden, a faintly jeering note
in his voice.

"Yes," said Hill, deliberately. "I think I know you--pretty well--now."

"I wonder," said Warden.

He moved slowly forward, throwing the light before him as he did so. The
place had been blasted out of the rock, and here and there the stone
shone smooth as marble where the charge had gone. Rough shelves had been
hewn in the walls, leaving divisions between, and on some of these were