near the wall of the archway. Cyril raised his foot and brought
his heel down upon it sharply with all the strength and force he
had still left in him. The pipe broke short, and Cyril saw within
it a number of telegraph wires for the railway service. The tube
communicated directly with the air outside. They were saved! They
were saved! Air would come through the pipe! He saw it all now! He
dimly understood it!

At the self-same moment, another sound of breaking was heard more
distinctly at the opposite end, some thirty or forty feet off through
the tunnel. Then a voice rang far clearer, as if issuing from the
tube, in short, sharp sentences--

"We'll pump you in air. How many of you are there? Are you all
alive? Is any one injured?"

Cyril leant down and shouted back in reply--

"We're two. Both alive. Not hurt. But sick and half dead with
stifling. Send us air as soon as ever you can. And if possible pass
us a bottle of water."

Some minutes elapsed--three long, slow minutes of it--intense
anxiety. Elma, now broken down with terror and want of oxygen,
fell half fainting forward towards the shattered tube. Cyril held
her up in his supporting arms, and watched the pipe eagerly. It
seemed an age; but, after a time, he became conscious of a gust of
air blowing cold on his face. The keen freshness revived him.

He looked about him and drew a deep breath. Cool air was streaming