She put her shapely foot against the door and pushed it open. She jumped into the jaws of Erebus, and held up her arms to him; and he let himself down into them, trusting, and was taken and rejoiced over. “Now,” she said, “whatever comes we are safe to win clear, and I will cry a little. But I can cry walking.” “And will you explain a little, Betty?” “This is no ice-house; or at least it is only the mouth of an underground passage, that leads straight through into that you call the ‘Priest’s Hole.’” “Betty!” “I have heard grandfather (woe is me--the poor old man!) talk o’t many a time. For he worked here when a lad in the service of Sir Thomas Woodruff. And I doubted not your honour knew; though the end in truth was choked with rubbish. But when you returned not, and the rogues came in force and made their purpose clear, we women watched wi’ sore hearts from the shelter of the roof, and we saw Sir David Blythewood and the captain come out on to the snow by the fringe of the shaw no earlier than this morning; and I cried at once, ‘They ha’ taken refuge in the ice-house, and have lain there in ignorance to this moment!’” “Go on, Betty. Are you sure of the way? Never mind my crowing, girl. I haven’t broken food or tasted drink for three days, and my lungs are like glass paper.” “Oh me! but I will not cry for a minute. I took Jim, and we found our way to the hole and went down into it; and there sure enough under the ledge was a stone in the wall that turned on a great pin; and this we swung round and saw a black gully shoot before us. Well, we took a candle and entered, and not twenty feet in, the light went out and we had to walk in darkness.” “Oh, my child, my little Betty! That said ‘Go back!’ as plain as foul gas could speak.” “Did it? It was close and stifling, of course; but we took hands and won through this very tunnel we are creeping along now; and all of a sudden we came to rubbish and the murmur of voices. At that Jim shouted. They were close at hand and heard us plain; and in ten minutes we had made a hole through the heap big enough to pass through.” “And foolish they must have looked to hear how they had sat down to die within reach of rescue.” “Maybe.” “Did they not, Betty?” “How should I know? I had no eyes for them. You weren’t there.” He stopped in the black darkness and put his arms about her. “Dennis,” he murmured back. “Are you following? Don’t run us down, but listen to this. I love Betty Pollack with all my heart and soul.” The girl burst into tears. “Don’t!” she whispered, and clung to him convulsively. He said softly over his shoulder: “Take up the tale, Whimple. She saved you?”