"Don't hurry yourself on my account," said Ducie. "I am quite jolly. My
eyes are ready bandaged; I am only waiting for the axe and the block."

"We are not going to dispose of you in quite so summary a fashion," said
the Russian. "One minute more and your eyesight shall be restored to
you."

Ducie's quick ears caught a low click, as though someone had touched a
spring. Then there was a faint rumbling, as though something were being
rolled back on hidden wheels.

"Lend me your hand again, and bend that tall figure of yours. Step
carefully. There is another staircase to descend--the last and the
steepest of all."

Keeping fast hold of Platzoff's hand, Ducie followed slowly and
cautiously, counting the steps as he went down. They were of stone, and
were twenty-two in number. At the bottom of the staircase another door
was unlocked. The two passed through, and the door was shut and relocked
behind them.

"Be blind no longer!" said Platzoff, taking off the handkerchief and
handing it to Ducie, with a smile. A few seconds elapsed before the
latter could discern anything clearly. Then he saw that he was in a
small vaulted chamber about seven feet in height, with a flagged floor,
but without furniture of any kind save a small table of black oak on
which Platzoff's lamp was now burning. The atmosphere of this dungeon
had struck him with a sudden chill as he went in. At each end was a
door, both of iron. The one that had opened to admit them was set in the