The slowly moving circle of light from the torch revealed a short flight of steps sheeted over with a fungoid veneer of damp dust. There was a pattern of footprints in the centre, and tangles of dangling black threads at the side. Beyond them a concrete ramp went on down into the darkness. Ducane steadied himself by pressing his knuckles against the cold brick wall. He did not want to touch McGrath who was just in front of him. They descended slowly as far as the concrete. 'You say Mr Radeechy told you to cut the electric cable at the top of the passage, where we left the air-raid shelters? T 'That's right, Sir. Mr Radeechy liked it all to be by candle light. I think he thought it was safer too, you know, in case anyone came.' 'Was the door we've just come through usually locked? T 'Yes, Sir. Mr. had a key and he gave me a key.' 'Did you ever come down here without him?' 'I hardly ever came down here with him, Sir. I just left the stuff ready for him and cleared off. He didn't want me around when he was at it.' 'Go on, man, lead on, don't just block the way.' 'Are you all right, Sir?' 'Of course I'm all right. Go on.' The wavering light of the torch undulated forward suggesting a vista of a narrow extended sloping rectangular slot of red brick with a dark ending. Several black pipes, bunched into the corner of the roof and joined together by a heavy sacking of cobwebs, led down into the darkness. The effect was of the entrance to an ancient sepulchre and it was hard to believe that the corridors of a government department were my at a few minutes' distance. 'Did you lock the door at the top behind us?' Ducane asked. he found that he was speaking in a low voice. The concrete ramp was slightly sticky as well, and footsteps made a faint soft kissing sound. A very low almost inaudible hum seemed to be out of the black pipes. 'Yes, Sir. I hope that was right, Sir? I thought we wouldn't want to be interrupted down here, Sir, any more than Mr R.! X 'Well, don't lose the key.' 'We'd be in a rare fix then, wouldn't we, Sir! No one comes near that door. We could be down here for ever and no one the wiser.' 'Get on, get on. Are we nearly there?' 'Nearly. Not that way, Sir. Straight on.' A narrow black doorway had appeared on the right of the passage. 'Where does that lead to?' 'Lord, Sir, I don't know. I didn't go exploring down here. It's not a very nice place, especially when you're by yourself. I went down to the room and up again as quickly as I could. You aren't nervous, are you, Sir?' 'Of course not. Don't wave the torch about so, keep it down.' The shape of the passage and the sharp angle of descent was reminding Ducane of kings' tombs he had visited in Greece and Egypt. He thought, I ought to have brought a torch of my own. Then he thought, I ought to have told someone I was coming down here. There was no need for secrecy. I didn't realize what it would be like. Suppose we do lose the key? Suppose we get separated, suppose we get lost? These passages can't lead to more air-raid shelters, we've left the air-raid shelters behind, we're at much too low a level now. It's more likely that this is some disused part of the Underground or something to do with the sewers. 'It's steep again here, Sir, and more steps, watch out. Not straight on, this way now, follow me. Now this passage on the left. Keep close.' 'I saw one once, Sir, a big fat fellow. Mr. saw several. He asked me to get some biscuit tins and that to keep the stuff in. He was afraid the rats might eat it, you see. Left again, Sir.' 'Are you sure you know the way? T 'Quite sure, Sir. A bit eerie, isn't it? Just like the cata. combs I should think. Here we are arrived. Could you hold the torch now while I use the other key?' They had reached a closed door. Ducane took a firm hold on the torch. Was the battery not perceptibly fainter? He moved the torch, revealing a black close-fitting well-painted door and McGrath's red-golden head stooped over the keyhole. McGrath's hairs glistened like burnished wire in the close light. The door gave silently. 'That's right. Give me the torch, Sir.' 'I'll keep the torch,' said Ducane. McGrath moved through the opening and Ducane followed stepping carefully. There was a very unpleasant smell. 'Well, here we are, Sir, in the holy of holies.' The door clicked to behind them. Ducane began to shine the torch about the room but the first thing revealed by it was McGrath. Again Ducane was struck by the intense colour of the man's hair. The light blue eyes stared back. There was a moment of stillness. Then Ducane moved to examine the room. The curious idea had occurred to him: this man could murder me down here and no one would ever know. He did not turn his back on McGrath. The room was a plain fifteen-foot cube with a concrete floor. One wall appeared to be covered with a whitish paper, the other walls and the ceiling were red brick. A trio of black pipes curled round the corner of the ceiling and disappeared into the wall. Ducane had an impression of trestle tables and chairs and some old physical memory came to him from the war time, some recalling of dug-outs and guard rooms. He felt at once certain that the strange room had been something to do with the war, something secret and unrecorded and lost. McGrath moved to a corner and clanked open a metal box. A match was struck. The candle flame illumined McGrath's hair and paper-white cheek and also the elaborate silver candlestick which held the candle. Ducane exclaimed. 'Very pretty, isn't it, Sir? Mr Radeechy had some nice stuff down here, I'll show you. You can put the torch out now Sir.' Four candles in identical silver holders were now burning upon the trestle in the corner. Ducane moved to examine the candlesticks. Each one stood upon four silver balls held by four dragoh claws, and the thick shaft was engraved all over with swirling dragons. 'Nice, aren't they,' said McGrath. 'Chinese, Mr Radeechy said they were. And take a look at this.' He had brought out and was holding aloft a silver-gilt chalice studded with what appeared to be very large jewels. Ducane took the cup from him and examined it. The light was too dim and he knew too little about precious stones to be sure if these ones were real. But the effect was rich and somehow barbaric. 'Have a drink, Sir,' said McGrath. As Ducane held the cup McGrath suddenly tilted some wine into it from a bottle which he had just produced. Ducane hastily put the chalice down on the table. 'It's quite all right, Sir. It won't have gone off. Quite a little feast we could have down here. We needn't starve. See, there's this funny bread, and walnuts, Mr. was very partial to walnuts.' McGrath was taking the contents out of the tins and spreading them upon the table. Ducane saw slices of moist black bread and the nuts, their veined shells slightly green with mould. Black bread for the black mass; and Ducane recalled that walnuts'I saw one once, Sir, a big fat fellow. Mr. saw several. He asked me to get some biscuit tins and that to keep the stuff in. He was afraid the rats might eat it, you see. Left again, Sir.' 'Are you sure you know the way? T 'Quite sure, Sir. A bit eerie, isn't it? Just like the catacombs I should think. Here we are arrived. Could you hold the torch now while I use the other key?' They had reached a closed door. Ducane took a firm hold on the torch. Was the battery not perceptibly fainter? He moved the torch, revealing a black close-fitting well-painted door and McGrath's red-golden head stooped over the keyhole. McGrath's hairs glistened like burnished wire in the close light. The door gave silently. 'That's right. Give me the torch, Sir.'
