Our cabs were dismissed, and following the
guidance of Mr. Merryweather, we passed down a narrow passage, and through
a side door which he opened for us. Within there was a small corridor,
which ended in a very massive iron gate. This also was opened, and led
down a flight of winding stone steps, which terminated at another
formidable gate. Mr. Merryweather stopped to light a lantern, and then
conducted us down a dark, earth-smelling passage, and so, after opening a
third door, into a huge vault or cellar, which was piled all round with
crates and massive boxes.
"You are not very vulnerable from above," Holmes remarked, as he held up
the lantern and gazed about him.
"Nor from below," said Mr. Merryweather, striking his stick upon the flags
which lined the floor. "Why, dear me, it sounds quite hollow!" he
remarked, looking up in surprise.
"I must really ask you to be a little more quiet," said Holmes severely.
"You have already imperiled the whole success of our expedition. Might I
beg that you would have the goodness to sit down upon one of those boxes,
and not to interfere?"
The solemn Mr. Merryweather perched himself upon a crate, with a very
injured expression upon his face, while Holmes fell upon his knees upon
the floor, and, with the lantern and a magnifying lens, began to examine
minutely the cracks between the stones.
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