But Denny was firmer than I, and my adventures came before his. I told them all faithfully, save one incident; it may perhaps be guessed which. Denny and the other two listened with frequent exclamations of surprise, and danced with exultation at the final worsting of Constantine Stefanopoulos. ‘It’s all right,’ said Denny reassuringly. ‘Old Mouraki will hang him just the same.’ ‘Now it’s your turn,’ said I. ‘Oh, our story’s nothing. We just got through that old drain, and came out by the sea, and all the fishermen had gone off to the fishing-grounds, except one old chap they left behind to look after their victuals. Well, we didn’t know how to get back to you, and the old chap told us that the whole place was alive with armed ruffians, so--’ ‘Just tell the story properly, will you?’ said I sternly. At last, by pressing and much questioning, I got the story from them, and here it is; for it was by no means so ordinary a matter as Denny’s modesty would have had me think. When the consternation caused by the cutting of our rope had passed away, a hurried council decided them to press on with all speed, and they took their way along a narrow, damp and slippery ledge of rock which encircled the basin. So perilous did the track seem that Hogvardt insisted on their being roped as though for a mountaineering ascent, and thus they continued the journey. The first opening from the basin they found without much difficulty. Now the rope proved useful, for Denny, passing through first, fell headlong into space and most certainly would have perished but for the support his companions gave him. The track turned at right angles to the left, and Denny had walked straight over the edge of the rock. Sobered by this accident and awake to their peril (it must be remembered that they had no lantern), they groped their way slowly and cautiously, up and down, in and out. Hours passed. Watkins, less accustomed than the others to a physical strain, could hardly lift his feet. All this while the dim glimmer which Denny had seen retreated before them, appearing to grow no nearer for all their efforts. They walked, as they found afterwards--or walked, crawled, scrambled and jumped--for eleven hours, their haste and anxiety allowed no pause for rest. Then they seemed to see the end, for the winding tortuous track appeared at last to make up its mind. It took a straight downward line, and Denny’s hard-learned caution vanishing, he started along it at a trot and with a hearty hurrah. He tempted fate. The slope became suddenly a drop. This time all three fell with a splash and a thud into a deep pool, one on the top of the other. Here they scrambled for some minutes, Watkins coming very near to finding an end of the troubles of his eventful service. But Denny and Hogvardt managed to get him out. The path began again. Content with its last freak, it pursued now a business-like way, the glimmer grew to a gleam, the gleam spread into a glad blaze.