ANOTHER MURDER
We dropped into the hole one by one, picking our way down the ladder as best we could. I was first to reach the earth floor, and stood there, holding the lantern high above my head, its yellow rays feebly illuminating the rungs, until the last trooper came scrambling down beside me. It was an odd-looking party thus dimly revealed in that narrow space between those stone walls, the men's faces appearing sallow, their eyes staring about wonderingly. I edged my way past them to take up the lead again.
"This tunnel runs directly west, lads," I explained briefly. "There are no turns, and nothing to fall over. All you've got to do is walk straight, and follow me."
Masterson was next to me in line, the girl beside him, the whiteness of her face conspicuous. I smiled back into her eyes, but met with no response, and plunged forward, more angry with myself than her. The dull thud of the feet behind, naturally falling into marching step, awoke muffled echoes, and I flung the light as far ahead as possible down the tunnel. It was bare, unoccupied. What had become of that woman? Where was she when I traversed this black passage alone? Surely she could never have stolen in after me without being seen by O'Brien; and, if she had fled this way, wounded by Jean's shot, she could never get away through that trap door, without alarming those watchers in the negro cabin. Yet there was no place of hiding here—not even a skurrying rat could have escaped our scrutiny, and the lantern light flashed into every nook and corner in a vain effort at
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