I counted the steps; there were ninety-six.
At the bottom we turned again to the right. Just as we turned I
heard Harry's voice, quite low:
"There are only a dozen following us, Paul. Now--"
But I shook my head. It would have been mere folly, for, even if
we had succeeded in breaking through, we could never have made
our way back up the steps. This I told Harry; he admitted
reluctantly that I was right.
We now found ourselves in a lane so low and narrow that it was
necessary for us to stoop and proceed in single file. Our
progress was slow; the guide was continually turning to beckon us
on with gestures of impatience.
At length he halted and stood facing us. The guard that followed
gathered close in the rear, the guide made a curious upward
movement with his arm, and when we stood motionless repeated it
several times.
"I suppose he wants us to fly," said Harry with so genuine a tone
of sarcasm that I gave an involuntary smile.
The guide's meaning was soon evident. It took some seconds for
my eye to penetrate the darkness, and then I saw a spiral stair
ascending perpendicularly, apparently carved from the solid rock.
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