Farther, go farther. It should be here."

They sprang on, with hands to the rough plaster on the wall, till
Dawson encountered the door, set level with the wall, for which they
sought.

"Push," panted the woman, heaving at it with futile hands. Even in
the darkness he could see the gleam of her naked arms and shoulders.
"Push it in."

Dawson laid his shoulder to it, his arms folded, and shoved
desperately till his head buzzed. As he eased up he heard the near
feet of the menacing police again.

"You must push it in!" cried the woman. "It is the only way. If
not--"

"Here, catch hold of this," said Dawson, and she found the bronze
image in her hands. "Let me come," he said, and standing back a
little, he flung his twelve stone of bone and muscle heavily on the
door. It creaked, and some fastening within broke and fell to the
ground.

Once again he assaulted it, and it was open. They passed rapidly
within, and closed it behind them, and with the woman's hand guiding,
Dawson stumbled up a long, narrow, sloppy stair that gave on to the
flat roof of the building. Above them was sky again. The rain had
passed, and the frosty stars of Mozambique shone faintly. He took a
deep breath as he received the image from the hands of the woman.