Suddenly finding myself the only follower of our guide, I begin to realise to its full extent the loss of one who, up to now, has been my companion. I realise this one fact among others, but quite sufficient of itself, namely, that if I once lose sight of M. VESQUIER in this maze of caverns down in the depths below, I shall have the utmost difficulty in ever coming up to the surface again. Now we are walking on a line of rails. All at once I lose sight of M. VESQUIER. He must have turned off to the right or left--_which?_--and I shall see his light in the distance when I reach the opening into the right, or left, passage.... What's that? A shriek? a howl? a flash!--"_Hé là bas_!" and at a rapid pace out of the blackest darkness emerge two wine-demons on a trolly. I have just time to reduce myself to the smallest possible compass against the barrels, when the wine-demons brandishing a small torch-light have whizzed past,--"Ho! Ho!"--goblin laughter in the distance, as heard in _Rip Van Winkle_, and described in _Gabriel Grub_--"Ho! Ho!"--and before I have recovered myself, they have vanished into outer and blacker darkness, and all around me the gloom is gloomier than ever. [Illustration] "_Hé!_ Monsieur VESQUIER!" I shout. I have taken a wrong turning; that is, I have taken some turning or other to the right, and there is no sign of my guide. My fears have come true. My forebodings are realised. I stumble on--over the tram-way lines--against the casks--"_Hé, là bas! Hé!_ M. VESQUIER!!"--O dear!--"_Home Sweet Home!_" What was that negro melody that now recurs to me as a sort of singing in my ears--"Home once more! Home once more! Shall I _ever_ see my home once more!!"--A shout in the distance--or is it an echo--no! Is it VESQUIER! I shout in return--then in the far distance I descry a light ... it grows bigger ... a shriek ... a wild waving of a blazing garish torch, and again I have to compress myself against the barrels as another trolly whizzes past at full speed, carrying two cheerful-looking, and except for that one shout, silent demons. "Hey trolly lolly!" I cannot stay there--they have gone like a flash--and the obscurity is becoming oppressive.... Shall I retrace my steps? It isn't a question of "shall I,"--it is "_can I"?_ Through how many turnings have we come? No--I should never find my way back again. Better push on. I shout again: desperately but nervously. There is not even an echo. And now my candle, which has been guttering and sputtering for the last few moments, is threatening dissolution. It is the beginning of the end--of the candle-end. If the candle goes out before I do--Heavens! but I must move very cautiously. What a subject for a Jules-Verne novel! _Ah, how I should enjoy reading about it in a story!!_ But as a personal experience ... Where am I? Is it straight on? or to the left?--I think there is a left passage--or to the right? I peer down in the hopes of seeing some evidence of life, at all