There was an opening about a yard square in front of them, which had something the look of a brick fireplace, a fireplace raised about two feet from the ground. But, save for one row of bricks in front, the floor of it was emptiness. Antony took a torch from his pocket and flashed it down into the blackness.

“Look,” he whispered to the eager Bill. “The steps begin down there. Six feet down.”

He flashed his torch up again. There was a handhold of iron, a sort of large iron staple, in the bricks in front of them.

“You swing off from there,” said Bill. “At least, I suppose you do. I wonder how Ruth Norris liked doing it.”

“Cayley helped her, I should think.⁠ ⁠… It’s funny.”

“Shall I go first?” asked Bill, obviously longing to do so. Antony shook his head with a smile.

“I think I will, if you don’t mind very much, Bill. Just in case.”