"What is it?" cried the girl, startled. "Tell me!"

But he, realizing the nature of his discovery--for he had seen a human
incisor tooth, gold-filled, there in the odd little heap--straightened
up quickly and assumed to smile.

"It's nothing, nothing at all!" he answered. "Come, we haven't got any
time to waste. If we're going to provide ourselves with even a few
necessaries before the alcohol's all gone, we've got to be at work!"

And onward, downward, ever farther and farther, he led her through the
dark maze of ruin, which did not even echo to their barefoot tread.

Like disheveled wraiths they passed, soundlessly, through eerie
labyrinths and ways which might have served as types of Coleridge's
"caverns measureless to man," so utterly drear they stretched out in
their ghostly desolation.

At length, after an eternal time of weariness and labor, they managed
to make their way down into the ruins of the once famous and beautiful
arcade which had formerly run from Madison Avenue to the square.

"Oh, how horrible!" gasped Beatrice, shrinking, as they clambered down
the stairs and emerged into this scene of chaos, darkness, death.

Where long ago the arcade had stretched its path of light and life and
beauty, of wealth and splendor, like an epitome of civilization all
gathered in that constricted space, the little light disclosed stark
horror.