They hurried along the passage to the steps which led to the cellar. Here again Braith stopped.
“Don't you think I had better run up to see if Jack and Sylvia are well intrenched? I can get back before dark.”
“No. Go in and find Colette and I'll go.”
“No, no, let me go, there’s no danger.”
“I know it,” replied West calmly; and dragging Braith into the alley pointed to the cellar steps. The iron door was barred.
“Colette! Colette!” he called. The door swung inward, and the girl sprang up the steps to meet them. At that instant, Braith, glancing behind him, gave a startled cry, and pushing the two before him into the cellar jumped down after them and slammed the iron door. A few seconds later a heavy jar from the outside shook the hinges.
“They are here,” muttered West, very pale.
“That door,” observed Colette calmly, “will hold forever.”
Braith examined the low iron structure, now trembling with the blows rained on it from without. West glanced anxiously at Colette who displayed no agitation, and this comforted him.
“I don’t believe they will spend much time here,” said Braith; “they only rummage in cellars for spirits, I imagine.”
“Unless they hear that valuables are buried there.”
“But surely nothing is buried here?” exclaimed Braith uneasily.
“Unfortunately there is,” growled West. “That miserly landlord of mine—”
A crash from the outside followed by a yell
