possibility of such a misfortune.




CHAPTER IV


THE SPECTRE OF THE CATACOMB


"Surely, she cannot be lost!" exclaimed Kenyon. "It is but a moment since
she was speaking."

"No, no!" said Hilda, in great alarm. "She was behind us all; and it is
a long while since we have heard her voice!"

"Torches! torches!" cried Donatello desperately. "I will seek her, be
the darkness ever so dismal!"

But the guide held him back, and assured them all that there was no
possibility of assisting their lost companion, unless by shouting at
the very top of their voices. As the sound would go very far along these
close and narrow passages, there was a fair probability that Miriam
might hear the call, and be able to retrace her steps.

Accordingly, they all--Kenyon with his bass voice; Donatello with his
tenor; the guide with that high and hard Italian cry, which makes the
streets of Rome so resonant; and Hilda with her slender scream, piercing
farther than the united uproar of the rest--began to shriek, halloo, and