Cautiously and silently drawing the
wooden bar he pushed gently against the panel to find that the door
swung easily and noiselessly outward into utter darkness. Moving
carefully and feeling forward for each step he passed out of the
niche, closing the door behind him.
Peeling about, he discovered that he was in a narrow corridor which
he followed cautiously for a few yards to be brought up suddenly
by what appeared to be a ladder across the passageway. He felt of
the obstruction carefully with his hands until he was assured that
it was indeed a ladder and that a solid wall was just beyond it,
ending the corridor. Therefore, as he could not go forward and as
the ladder ended at the floor upon which he stood, and as he did
not care to retrace his steps, there was no alternative but to climb
upward, and this he did, his pistol ready in a side pocket of his
blouse.
He had ascended but two or three rungs when his head came suddenly
and painfully in contact with a hard surface above him. Groping
about with one hand over his head he discovered that the obstacle
seemed to be the covering to a trap door in the ceiling which,
with a little effort, he succeeded in raising a couple of inches,
revealing through the cracks the stars of a clear African night.
With a sigh of relief, but with unabated caution, he gently slid
the trapdoor to one side far enough to permit him to raise his
eyes above the level of the roof.
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