"You mean," said he rapidly, "that the Shawcliffe workings run up this way----" "No, no," said Walker, interrupting. "You are wrong, Mr Entwistle. The Shawcliffe workings all run down the other way, to the north." "Nay," persisted the old gentleman--"not all. They thowt there were a seam this way, and they drove one road out here, if so be they might pick it up. They had got signs of it, boring. But it were a faulty seam. It weren't until Belton Pit were opened, thirty years later, that they struck it fair." "And that road runs out this way, from Shawcliffe shaft?" asked the Inspector. "Ay, and it must come very nigh to the Belton Workings now--nigh to Number Three. I reckon----" "He is right!" said Walker excitedly. "It's a chance! I _have_ heard of this road, now I think of it." He turned to Entwistle again. "How far out do you think it runs? Quick, man--tell us!" For answer the veteran, much inflated, stumped off again in a northerly direction, with all the assurance of a water-diviner in full cry. After fifty yards or so he stopped. "I should say it ended about here," he said. "You can trust the old man's memory. The youngsters----" Another lengthy deliverance was plainly threatened, but this time our Nestor observed, not without justifiable chagrin, that the majority of his audience had disappeared. The symposium was suddenly reduced to himself and his daughter-in-law. Testily curtailing his peroration, to the exclusion of severable valuable aphorisms upon the advantages of senile decay over youthful immaturity, the old gentleman resignedly took the arm of Mrs Amos, and permitted himself to be conducted back to his fireside. But he had served his turn for all that. The other three were hurrying back to Belton Pit talking eagerly, Juggernaut leading by half a pace. "It's madness, of course," said Walker cheerfully. "This pit has been closed for forty years. The props will be down----" "The air will be foul," said the Inspector thoughtfully. "Or explosive," added Walker. "And there will probably be water," continued both together. "Is the shaft still open?" asked Juggernaut brusquely. "I believe so," said Walker. "I suppose it would be possible to rig a derrick and tackle over it?" "Yes." They strode on a dozen paces. "I am going down," said Juggernaut. "I am going with you," said Walker. "And I," said the Inspector, "am coming too." They broke into a trot. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO. HOLD THE FORT! The safety-lamps had burned themselves out hours ago, and the imprisoned party sat on in the dark. There was nothing else to do. Food they had none: their water was exhausted. They slept fitfully, but in the black darkness sleep seemed little removed from death, and time from eternity.