We knew not when the shaft of yellow light might return on its beat.
We lit a Bryant & May"s match, and thereby groped our way downwards, ever downwards.
Finally, as we had given up all for lost, Leonora said, "Don"t you think the air is a little stuffy?"
We sniffed about the rocky floor, and found an iron grating.
It yielded to a strong tug, and we descended into subterranean pa.s.sages, framed by the art of men, through which rolled and surged torrents of turbid water.
Through these we waded, attacked by armies of rats, till, thank goodness! we saw a moving light, flashing hither and thither on the torrent.
Half swimming, half wading, we reached the bearer of the light.
It was old Pellmelli, "doing a Sanitary special," as he told us.
We, somewhat deceitfully, led him to believe that we had lost ourselves on a similar errand, for a rival Budget, with which he was concerned in a Paper Mill.[30]
[30]
What do you mean by a Paper Mill?--PUBLISHER.
A Journalistic War, then.--ED.
On our faithfully promising to give him exclusive information about our adventures, "for an Extra," as he said, old Pellmelli conducted us to an orifice in the rock, whence we escaped, at last, into the light of such day as dwells in the Dark City.
Our hopes now entirely rest on finding Jambres again, but it may be, of course, a good three or four thousand years before that.
Here this strange narrative closes; and as I end my editorial task, I have only one question to ask myself--Will this thing go on? will Jambres and Leonora meet? will the Americans give up Jambres under the Extradition Act? or----
Is the great drama Played Out?--ED.