to him, but, making his way through a low vaulted door, he chanced
into what must have been one of the smaller, auxiliary engine-rooms.

This, he found, contained a battery of four dynamos, a small
seepage-pump, and a crumbling marble switch-board with part of the
wiring still comparatively intact.

At sight of all this valuable machinery scaled and pitted with rust,
Stern's brows contracted with a feeling akin to pain. The engineer
loved mechanism of all sorts; its care and use had been his life.

And now these mournful relics, strange as that may seem, affected him
more strongly than the little heaps of dust which marked the spots
where human beings had fallen in sudden, inescapable death.

Yet even so, he had no time for musing.

"Tools!" cried he, peering about the dimwit vault. "Tools--I must have
some. Till I find tools, I'm helpless!"

Search as he might, he discovered no ax in the place, but in place of
it he unearthed a sledge-hammer. Though corroded, it was still quite
serviceable. Oddly enough, the oak handle was almost intact.

"Kyanized wood, probably," reflected he, as he laid the sledge to one
side and began delving into a bed of dust that had evidently been a
work-bench. "Ah! And here's a chisel! A spanner, too! A heap of rusty
old wire nails!"

Delightedly he examined these treasures.