At the sight we drew back on the very brink, and stood gaping and dumbstruck, afraid for the moment to proceed. “Dicky,” said Harry, staring over my shoulder, “here comes the tug, don’t it?” I did not answer. Suddenly he dipped under my arm and ran down, and, terrified at the thought of being left alone, I followed him. The fragments of the door stood wrenched at any angle; but through the black gaps in the wreck flowed the sense of shattered spaces beyond. “Now for it!” said Harry. “Hand me the light when I’m in, and follow yourself.” I would have lingered yet, but he broke from me, and, fearing to precipitate I knew not what nameless ruin, I let him go with only a show of interference. He was through in a moment, and calling back to me, “Pass the light, and come on. It’s all serene.” And then in an instant I had followed him. The draught was still strong enough here to flutter the candle flame, so that for a little we could make out nothing of our surroundings. But stepping cautiously to one side, away from the door, we found the light to stand suddenly steady, and immediately before our eyes there grew into grotesque and shadowy being a vision of enormous destruction. It was again a vaulted chamber we were in, but of apparent proportions infinitely greater than the other. Apparent, I say, for for two-thirds of its extent it was just one unresolvable ruin. A great part of the roof had collapsed, snapping in its downfall, like sticks of celery, the squat massive piers which had supported it. The walls on either side were bowed to an arch above, or swayed drunkenly with colossal knees bent outwards. To the further side, gaping at us across the havoc, a huge blackened rent seemed to invite to nameless horrors beyond; and scattered and spattered and spurted from under the fringe of the stony avalanche were staves of casks, and fragments of burst chests from which fountains of tea had showered all over the floor. We stood awestruck, scarce daring to breathe. The sense of yet impending disaster, the terror of calling it down upon us by a stumble, a false step, kept us as still as mice. Before us a path went clear round the ruin to another broken archway, and yet remoter vaults. But by this time my curiosity was become something less than a negative quantity. “Harry,” I whispered at last, almost querulously, “we’ve seen enough. I’m going back.” His face looked into mine like a little ghost’s. “I’m not,” he said. “But I don’t want you to come. Light me another bit of candle from yours, and stay here while I go and explore. We’ve found out nothing yet, you know.” I am ashamed to say I let him go, only imploring him to return soon--to be satisfied with a look. He did not answer, but stole off resolutely with his bit of a torch, and it was with a feeling of agony that I saw him disappear through the opening.