'Straightaway, sir.'
Larry stripped off his jacket, took out his own candle, cadged a light from Doyle's, and nimbly scampered one-handed down onto the ladder.
'Perhaps you'd better take this as well,' said Doyle, extending his service revolver to him.
'Thanks just the same, guv,' said Larry, lifting aside his vest to display a brace of bolstered knives. 'I'm a blade man myself.'
Larry began his descent. Doyle and Sparks watched the warm glow from his candle quickly diminish to a thin, shimmering halo.
'How is it, Larry?' asked Sparks down the shaft, his voice husky and low.
'There's an end to it just ahead.' Larry's voice echoed metallically back up to them, along with his footfalls on the ladder. 'The ladder stops here. Open space beneath. Can't tell how big. Somethin's down there ... I can see ... wait a moment ... good 'eavens ...'
The light from the candle disappeared. Then silence. They waited.
'What is it, Larry?' asked Sparks.
No answer from below. Doyle looked to Sparks, who appeared equally concerned. 'Larry? Are you there, lad?'
Still no reply. Sparks gave out the whistle with which he'd summoned Larry into the room. Again nothing, Sparks took off his jacket.
'I shall have to go after him, Doyle. Coming with me?'
'I don't know that I'm properly equipped—' said Doyle evasively.
'Fine, then if I disappear as well, you will have to come after me alone.'
Doyle took off his coat. 'Will you go first, or shall I?'
'Me first, with your revolver, you following with the candle.'
'Right,' said Doyle, handing over the revolver, his heart beating wildly. He was not overly fond of heights or tight places, and the shaft below served up a generous helping of both. And if whatever was down there had already gotten the better of the ever-capable Larry—that's quite enough of that line of thinking, Doyle; one rung at a time, Jack in the lead, hold the candle and your peace. Sparks went down. Doyle steadied himself on the edge of the trap, then lowered himself in until he found purchase on the ladder with one foot and then the other.
'Mind my hands as you go,' said Sparks, a few rungs below. 'And don't speak unless you absolutely must.'
Breathe, Doyle, don't forget to breathe. He quickly realized that much as he'd like to keep eyes forward, he was going to have to look down continually, if only to keep from crushing Jack's hands. Fortunately the supply of candlelight was so meager that the sheer dizzying depth of the shaft beneath him lived only in the mind, not the eye. Unfortunately, in the absence of the visual, his mind perversely manufactured images far more terrifying than any hazard that was likely to be waiting below.
The descent was laborious. The first thirty feet took nearly ten minutes but seemed endlessly longer. In order to obtain the vaguest idea of what lay ahead, Sparks was obliged to stay within a few rungs of Doyle and their source of light. One-handed as he was, Doyle refused to take the next step down until his free arm was securely entwined in and around the ladder. A steady drizzle of hot wax spilled onto his candle hand. Both palms were slippery with sweat.
What if I should drop it? thought Doyle. What if a gust of wind comes up; how would I ever relight the damn thing?
'Stop there,' said Sparks finally.
'Where are we?'
Glancing up the shaft no longer gave any indication of where the door above was in relation to their position, a limbo precisely defined by the limit of the candlelight.
'Hand me the candle, please, Doyle.'
Doyle carefully transferred the light down to Sparks's outstretched hand,.grateful that for the moment he was now able to hug the ladder with both arms. Sparks hung down by one hand, leaned over, and held the candle as low as he could carry it.
'The ladder ends here, as Larry said,' said Sparks. 'There's a drop-off.'
'How far?'
'I can't make out. This is where he called us from: I hear water moving somewhere below.' 'What should we do?'
Just then they heard the scrape of wood on wood from far above and a sound like the sealing of a tomb. The silence that followed was deafening. 'I say, Jack....' 'Ssshhh!'
They listened. Doyle kept quiet as long as he could bear. 'I think someone's closed the trapdoor,' he whispered. 'Do you hear anyone above you on the ladder?' Sparks whispered back.
Doyle slowly turned to look up the shaft. 'I ... don't believe I do.'
'It's possible that the trap closed automatically. That it has some sort of mechanical timing device.' 'Yes, well, anything's possible, isn't it?' 'Do you prefer to believe someone's just imprisoned us in this vertical hell?'
'No harm in considering the full range of possibilities, Jack.' Doyle's heart hammered like operatic timpani. He struggled to keep it from bleeding into his voice. 'What do you suggest we do?'
'I don't recommend climbing. Even if we find a way to open the trap from this side, if someone is waiting for us—' 'With you all the way on that one.' Sparks paused and peered down into the Stygian darkness below. 'You will have to lower me by hand.' 'Is that our only alternative?'
'Unless you prefer that I lower you. Need I point out you're a good deal more stout than I—' 'Point well taken.'
'Can you get your braces off? We're going to need some sort of reinforcement.'
'I don't really fancy my trousers falling down in the middle of this—'
'Without belaboring the point, your buttons are near enough to bursting that I don't honestly see it as a problem—'
'Right, you will have them,' said Doyle, irritation getting the momentary better of fear.
Maneuvering one hand at a time, Doyle peeled the braces off his shoulders, unbuttoned them from his waist, and handed them to Sparks. He looped both ends through the tops of his own braces, which he still wore, and handed them back to Doyle.
'Ever done any mountain climbing?' asked Sparks.
'No.'
'Then there's no point in my describing what we're about to do in mountaineering terms. I shall hang down by hand from the last rung as you wrap the braces twice around the bottom of the ladder. Hold the ends tightly in your hands; give me any additional slack if I ask you for it.'
'What if they won't hold?'
'We'll find that out soon enough, won't we?'
'What are you doing to do with the candle?'
'For the moment, I shall hold it in my mouth. Quickly now, Doyle,'
Sparks bit down on the candle and lowered himself, hanging off the bottom rung with both hands. Doyle crabbed cautiously down to the ladder's final station, quickly wrapped the braces twice around the steel as instructed, and grabbed hold of the reins.
'All set, Jack.'
Sparks nodded, let go of the ladder with one hand, and took the candle from his mouth.
'Here I go then,' said Sparks.
He let go with his other hand and fell away. The force of his weight hit the braces hard and nearly pried Doyle loose from the ladder, but the braces held. Sparks bounced and swung gently below in the open air, holding the candle out into the darkness.
'It's an entirely new shaft,' said Sparks. 'Runs horizontally. Much wider. Ours empties out into its middle. Water trickling down the center.'
'Sewer tunnel?' said Doyle, straining to hold him.
'Doesn't smell like it, does it?'
'Thankfully, no. Any sign of Larry?'
