ffered a means of escaping from the crypt.
And there, with the dead Maghrabi mudirs, the Legionaries could not
stay. In a few minutes now, at most, the men of Jannati Shahr would be
upon them.

"Faith, what the devil now?" exclaimed Bohannan, now seeming quite
rational, as he peered into the cramped corridor. "Where to Hell does
this lead?"

"Just where you've said, to Hell, it's far more than likely," the
Master retorted. "Come, men, into it! Follow me!"

He stooped, lamp in one hand, simitar in the other, and in a most
cramped posture entered the passage. After him came Leclair, the
woman, Bohannan, and the others.

The air hung close and heavy. The oppression of that stooping
position, the lamp-smoke, the unusual strain on the muscles, the
realization of a whole world of gold above and all about them, seemed
to strangle and enervate them. But steadily they kept on and on.

The turning of the passage revealed a long, descending incline, that
sloped down at an angle of perhaps thirty degrees. A marked rise in
temperature grew noticeable. What might that mean? None could imagine,
but not one even thought of turning back.

The walls and floor in this straight, descending passage were now no
longer smooth, arabesqued, polished. To the contrary, they showed a
rough surface, on which the marks of the chisel could be plainly seen
as it had shorn away the yielding metal in great gouges. Moreover,
streaks of black granite now began to appear; and these, as the
Legionaries advanced, became ever wider until at last the stone
predominated.

The Master understood they were now coming to the bottom of part of
the golden dyke. Undeviated by the hard rock, the tunnel continued to
descend, with here and there a turn. Narrowly the Master scrutinized
the floor, tapping it with the simitar as he crept onward, seeking
indications of any possible trap that might hurl him into bottomless,
black depths.

Quite at once, a right-angled turning opened into a small chamber not
above eight feet high by fifteen square. In this, silent, listening,
the sweating fugitives gathered.

The temperature was here oppressive, and the lamps burned blue with
some kind of gas that stifled the lungs. Gas and smoke together, made
breathing hard. A dull, roaring sound had begun to make itself vaguely
audible, the past few minutes; and as the Legionaries stood listening,
this was now rather plain to their ears.

"This is a devil of a place for a mult