Tom Tiddler's Island, стр. 26
“Going to make a survey?” Colin asked, in some surprise.
“One may as well enter the thing up on the map I made,” Northfleet explained. “That is, if the tunnel extends any distance before we come to the block in it.”
“No harm in that,” Colin assented, leading the way to the entrance to the secret passage.
Northfleet’s attention was attracted by the glass case containing the rockets.
“For signalling to the mainland in case of trouble, eh?”
“So Mrs. Dinnet says,” Colin confirmed. “Seems a sound idea.”
Northfleet inspected the rockets thoughtfully.
“Craigmore evidently believes in doing things thoroughly,” was his verdict. “These things would carry a life-line to a wreck, at a pinch, to judge by the size of them. And now, let’s see if I’ve remembered how to work this spring, without hints from you.”
His recollection was sound, for the door opened at his first attempt. Colin stepped forward, but a gesture from Northfleet restrained him.
“Wait a bit. No harm in seeing if the air down there’s all right before we go into it. We’d better have some newspaper, if there’s any handy. Is Dinnet about?”
“Gone over to the mainland in the motorboat, I expect. To get the newspapers and letters,” Colin explained. “I’ll get some paper.”
He procured a few sheets of newspaper; and Northfleet, after tearing off a piece, crumpled it slightly, and lit it with a match. When he threw it down the stairway it burned quite freely.
“Seems all right; but we’d better try it from time to time as we go along. If the tunnel’s blocked at the other end, there can’t be much free circulation, and we might strike a bad patch.”
He led the way cautiously down the rude, uneven steps, repeating his test from time to time during the descent. At the foot, he waited until Colin joined him.
“Fifty-seven steps. Say they’re eight inches high. That puts us about forty feet below ground-level, now. Evidently they took no risks of coming near the surface when they built this place.”
Northfleet flashed his light about him. The stair ended in a cell, twenty feet by ten. On their right was a doorway about four feet broad; and when Colin stepped through this he found himself in a six-foot passage running parallel to the stairway. The stonework of walls and roof was rude, but a glance was enough to show that it had stood the test of time. As Northfleet followed him through the doorway Colin saw by the light of the dash-lamp that the straight part of the corridor was only Borne forty feet long. At each end it bent at right angles out of sight.
“Hadn’t bargained for more than one passage,” Colin commented, glancing first at one end and then at the other. “Complicates things, this. Won’t do to get lost down here, if the thing starts branching out in all directions, like the Catacombs. Better be cautious, eh?”
Then another piece of casually-acquired information surged up in his memory and served to reassure him.
“Safe enough, though, if we keep one hand on the wall all the way along. That takes you through any maze. And to get back, you just turn round and keep the other hand on the same wall. That brings you back to where you started.”
“So some people say,” Northfleet returned, rather dryly. “I believe in making sure, myself; so I’ll just fasten this thread here and pay it out as we go along. I’ve an extra reel or two in my pocket, if the first one isn’t enough. Now you take the flash-light, Trent, and go ahead with your stunt. I’ll pay out the thread behind us. Just a moment! I want to take the bearing of of this corridor before we start.”
He fished out his prismatic compass, took a reading, and made a jotting in a note-book.
“I’m going to count my paces,” he explained as he put his compass back into his pocket, “so we’d better not talk except when we stop at a turn in the passage, if you don’t mind. Now you can go ahead.”
Colin set off briskly along the short stretch of straight path, keeping his hand on the wall as he went. The flash-light lit up the passage brilliantly, and he could not help being impressed by the thought of the labour which had gone to the excavating of this burrow, when every spadeful of earth must have been carried up to the surface as it was dug out. At the corner he halted, while Northfleet entered up his figures in the note-book. [1]
“There’s no need to take a fresh bearing, Trent. It’s a right-angled turn. Go ahead. It’s only a few yards to the next corner.”
The new turn was also towards the right and at an angle of ninety degrees.
“Easier than I expected,” Northfleet declared thankfully. “If it’s all rectangular like this, we’ll only need to take a bearing now and again as a check. Go ahead.”
When they turned the corner, the wall on their right continued unbroken; but half-way along the other wall Colin caught sight of the entrance to a new corridor. Northfleet halted and jotted down a note.
“Seems a regular maze,” said Colin, with less enthusiasm in his tone. “Still, we can’t go far wrong with that thread of yours.”
“Ten paces,” Northfleet noted, as they came to yet another turn to the right.
The new stretch was only a few yards long; then came another right-hand turn; and almost immediately Colin found himself back at the doorway leading to the staircase.
“Your method certainly brings you back to where you started,” Northfleet commented blandly. “And pretty quick, too. You forgot that it doesn’t work quite according to plan if there are islands in the maze.”
“Islands?”
“Bits