Feeble as a will-o'-the-wisp in that enshrouding dark, the torch
showed only hints of things--here a fallen pillar, there a shattered
mass of wreckage where a huge section of the ceiling had fallen,
yonder a gaping aperture left by the disintegration of a wall.

Through all this rubbish and confusion, over and through a score of
the little dust-piles which Stern had so carefully avoided explaining
to Beatrice, they climbed and waded, and with infinite pains slowly
advanced.

"What we need is more light!" exclaimed the engineer presently. "We've
got to have a bonfire here!"

And before long he had collected a considerable pile of wood, ripped
from the door-ways and window-casings of the arcade. This he set fire
to, in the middle of the floor.

Soon a dull, wavering glow began to paint itself upon the walls, and
to fling the comrades' shadows, huge and weird, in dancing mockery
across the desolation.

Strangely enough, many of the large plate-glass windows lining the
arcade still stood intact. They glittered with the uncanny reflections
of the fire as the man and woman slowly made way down the passage.

"See," exclaimed Stern, pointing. "See all these ruined shops?
Probably almost everything is worthless. But there must be some things
left that we can use.