"I must really apologize," said the Russian, next moment, "for keeping you waiting so long; but this lamp will not burn properly." "Don't hurry yourself on my account," said Ducie. "I am quite jolly. My eyes are ready bandaged: I am only waiting for the axe and the block." "We are not going to dispose of you in quite so summary a fashion," said the Russian. "One minute more and your eyesight shall be restored to you." Ducie's quick ears caught a low click, as though some one had touched a spring. Then there was a faint rumbling, as though something were being rolled back on hidden wheels. "Lend me your hand again, and bend that tall figure of yours. Step carefully. There is another staircase to descend--the last and the steepest of all." Keeping fast hold of Platzoff's hand, Ducie followed slowly and cautiously, counting the steps as he went down. They were of stone, and were twenty-two in number. At the bottom of the staircase another door was unlocked. The two passed through, and the door was shut and relocked behind them. "Be blind no longer!" said Platzoff, taking off the handkerchief and handing it to Ducie with a smile. A few seconds elapsed before the latter could discern anything clearly. Then he saw that he was in a small vaulted chamber about seven feet in height, with a flagged floor, but without furniture of any kind save a small table of black oak on which Platzoff's lamp was now burning. The atmosphere of this dungeon had struck him with a sudden chill as he went in. At each end was a door, both of iron. The one that had opened to admit them was set in the thick masonry of the wall; the one at the opposite end seemed built into the solid rock.