descent slowly, pausing
between each step to listen, and gripping the side-bars tightly. The
blackness and silence, combined with what I anticipated discovering
somewhere in those depths below, set my nerves tingling, yet I felt
cool, and determined to press on. Indeed, deep in my heart I welcomed
the adventure, even hoped it might end in some encounter serious enough
to arouse me to new thoughts--especially did I yearn to learn something
definite about Philip Henley. This to me was now the one matter of
importance; to be assured that he was living or dead. Nothing else
greatly mattered, for nothing could again efface from my memory the
woman he had called wife. Right or wrong, I knew she held me captive;
even there, groping blindly in that darkness, every nerve strained to
its utmost, my thought was with her, and her face arose before my
imagination. Unexpectedly, unexplainably love had come into my
life--the very love I had laughed at in others had made me captive.
And I was glad of it, reckless still as to what it might portend.

I counted twelve rungs going down, and then felt stone flags beneath my
feet, although the walls on either side, as I explored them with my
hands, were still of closely matched wood. The passage, now high
enough to permit of my standing erect, led toward the rear of the
house, presenting no obstacle other than darkness, until I came up
suddenly against a heavy wooden door completely barring further
progress. As near as I could figure I must be already directly beneath
the kitchen, and close in against the south wall. No sound reached me,
however, from above, nor could I, with ear against the slight crack,
distinguish any movement beyond the barrier. Cautious fingering
revealed closely matched hard wood, studded thickly with nail heads,
but no keyhole or latch. Secure in the feeling that no one else could
be in this outer passage, and completely baffled, I ventured to strike
a match. The tiny yellow flame, ere it quickly flickered out in some
mysterious draft, revealed an iron band to the left of the door, with
slight protuberance, resembling the button of an electric-bell. This
was the only semblance to a lock, and I was in doubt whether it would
prove an alarm, or some ingenuous [Transcriber's note: ingenious?]
spring. There was nothing for it, however, but to try the experiment,
and face the result.

Almost convinced that the pressure of my finger would ring an electric
be