Mr. Gianapolis pushed him forward, and, as the door was
closed, he heard the gear of the car reversed; then--silence fell.
"My grip!" he began, nervously.
"It will be placed in your room, Soames."
The voice of the Greek answered him from the darkness.
Guided by the hand of Gianapolis, he passed on and descended a flight of
stone steps. Ahead of him a light shone out beneath a door, and, as he
stumbled on the steps, the door was thrown suddenly open.
He found himself looking into a long, narrow apartment.... He pulled up
short with a smothered, gasping cry.
It was a cavern!--but a cavern the like of which he had never seen,
never imagined. The walls had the appearance of being rough-hewn
from virgin rock--from black rock--from rock black as the rocks of
Shellal--black as the gates of Erebus.
Placed at regular intervals along the frowning walls, to right and left,
were spiral, slender pillars, gilded and gleaming. They supported an
archwork of fancifully carven wood, which curved gently outward to the
center of the ceiling, forming, by conjunction with a similar, opposite
curve, a pointed arch.
In niches of the wall were a number of grotesque Chinese idols. The
floor was jet black and polished like ebony. Several tiger-skin rugs
were strewn about it.
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