For a long moment he stood face to face with this fresh ordeal, the lamplight sliding back and forth, halting to contemplate a feasible niche for his feet, stealing upward to find some splinter or seam where the fingers could clutch. Foot by foot he planned it, while he gathered his last reserve of strength for this supreme effort. Once he started, there could be no going back. He must work above the smooth stretch, where, at some time in the past, a huge fragment of wall had fallen away, and then edge sidewise until he was directly over the lip of the tunnel. After that he must let go all holds and drop. If he landed on the lip and stayed there, he would at least have a chance. If not--the evil death of a certainty would be his; for even if he landed uninjured in the pool he would never be able to repeat that terrific climb. He knew that he would not even attempt it. Doggedly, with that persistence which characterized the man, Abington began the ascent. He reached the exact point which he had planned to reach, drew one long breath in the full knowledge that it might be his last--and dropped. The impact of solid rock upon his boot soles jarred him as he flung himself forward and fell face downward on the floor of the passage. CHAPTER X--TRACKS IN THE DUST When Abington came to himself he was in darkness, the lamp having fallen on its side and gone out. Whether he had fainted, slept or merely lost consciousness for a moment he could not tell, nor did he ponder it much. The fact that his toes hung over the edge set him crawling forward on his hands and knees, obeying the primal instinct of self-preservation. He wanted no more of that particular abysm. Until he had put several yards between himself and what seemed to him now a black, bottomless void, he did not think of the lamp. When he finally forced himself to stop and light it he discovered that he was in a fairly level passage, the walls covered with carvings wherein the same chain of evil predominated. These hieroglyphics won only a cursory glance, however, as he got painfully upon his feet and started forward, steadying himself against the wall as he went. A cool breath of air in his face was his first intimation that he was nearing the outdoor world. In spite of a stiffness in his joints and muscles he found himself moving almost at a run and the consciousness of his nervous haste brought a faint grin of amusement to his face. John Abington was more anxious to see daylight than he ever had been in his life--and the first man to laugh over the experience would be John Abington himself. Nevertheless he did not slacken his pace until he arrived at a sharp turning where a gray light dimmed the white flame of his lamp.