A high board fence surrounded the little stretch of ground in front of them, and before this Bassett paused, groped an instant, pulled aside a loose board and slipped through. He let the board slide into place behind him, crossed the dirty yard, and, producing a key from his pocket, applied it to the lock of the first door he came to. An instant later, he had opened the door and entered. An odour incredibly foul and overpowering greeted him, and he paused to catch his breath, as it were. Then, groping his way forward along the wall, he came to another door, which he opened. Carefully closing it behind him, he struck a match. Its glow revealed a black pit yawning before him, into which plunged a steep and narrow stair. On a ledge at the top was a candle-end, and lighting this and holding it before him, Bassett descended the stair, which creaked and groaned ominously under his weight. At the bottom he blew out his candle and placed it carefully on the lowest step. He could hear the ripple of the river close at hand, but no other sound, for he was at the bottom of the shaft which led to the water’s edge. He apparently knew the place well, for he felt his way forward until his hands touched a board partition. Upon this he rapped sharply three times and then, after an interval, a fourth. Instantly there was a sharp click and a little door swung open, disclosing a man holding a candle above his head and peering out into the darkness—a little, shrivelled man, with livid, pock-marked face and venomous eyes. “All right, Hummel,” said Bassett, and stepped inside and drew the door shut after him. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XXVI NEMESIS THE place which Bassett had entered was a squalid little enclosure, eight or nine feet square, with the floor of the slaughter-house for a roof, rough slabs for walls, and the earth of the river bank for a floor. A rude fireplace of loose bricks had been built in one corner, the smoke from which was conducted up through a stove-pipe into the empty slaughter-house above. A little pile of coal, stolen from a near-by coalyard, occupied one corner, and a dirty bed, formed by some boards thrown across two boxes, another. Three boxes took the place of chairs and table, and another box nailed against the wall, served as a cupboard. The floor was littered with empty cans and whiskey bottles and scraps of refuse, and was slippery and slimy with dampness from the river. Hummel placed the candle on one of the boxes and then turned to his visitor, his face more loathsome than ever. Face, hands and clothing were caked with dirt. His hands were trembling as though with palsy, and it was evident that he was on the verge of delirium tremens. Without waiting for him to speak, Bassett, seeing his condition at a glance, drew from his pocket one of the bottles he had just purchased, and held it out to him.