nstance," he continued, "when it was a question of drawing up the
agreement--"

But he suddenly paused, gave vent to a hoarse exclamation, and stopped
her, pulling her back as if in terror.

"Take care!" he gasped.

There was a great cavity before them. Here, at the end of the gallery,
before reaching the corridor which communicated with the private house,
there was a steam lift of great power, which was principally used for
lowering heavy articles to the packing room. It only worked as a rule
on certain days; on all others the huge trap remained closed. When
the appliance was working a watchman was always stationed there to
superintend the operations.

"Take care! take care!" Morange repeated, shuddering with terror.

The trap was open, and the huge cavity gaped before them; there was no
barrier, nothing to warn them and prevent them from making a fearful
plunge. The rain still pelted on the glass roof, and the darkness had
become so complete in the gallery that they had walked on without
seeing anything before them. Another step would have hurled them to
destruction. It was little short of miraculous that the accountant
should have become anxious in presence of the increasing gloom in that
corner, where he had divined rather than perceived the abyss.

Constance, however, still failing to understand her companion, sought to
free herself from his wild grasp.

"But look!" he cried.

And he bent forward and compelled her also to stoop over the cavity. It
descended through three floors to the very lowest basement, like a well
of darkness. A damp odor arose: one could scarce distinguish the vague
outlines of thick ironwork; alone, right at the bottom, burnt a lantern,
a distant speck of light, as if the better to indicate the depth and
horror of the gulf. Morange and Constance drew back again blanching.

And now Morange burst into a temper. "It is idiotic!" he exclaimed. "Why
don't they obey the regulations! As a rule there is a man here, a man
expressly told off for this duty, who ought not to stir from his post so
long as the trap has not come up again. Where is he? What on earth can
the rascal be up to?"

The accountant again approached the hole, and shouted down it in a fury:
"Bonnard!"

No reply came: the pit remained bottomless, black and void.

"Bonnard! Bonnard!"

And still nothing was heard, not a sound; the damp breath of the
darkness alone ascended as from the deep silence of the tomb.

Thereupo