"My business," said Trendon, briefly. "Decomposition; unpleasant, but not dangerous."
Pushing the lantern before him, he wormed his way until the light was blotted out. Presently it shone forth from the funnel, showing that the explorer had reached the inner open space. Captain Parkinson dropped down and peered in, but the evil odour was too much for him. He retired, gagging and coughing. Trendon was gone for what seemed an interminable time. His superior officer fidgeted uneasily. At last he could stand it no longer.
"Dr. Trendon, are you all right?" he shouted.
"Yup," answered a choked voice. "Cubbing oud dow."
Again the funnel was darkened. A pair of feet appeared; then the surgeon's chunky trunk, his head, and the lantern. Once, twice, and thrice he inhaled deeply.
"Phew!" he gasped. "Thought I was tough, but—Phee-ee-ee-ew!"
"Did you find"
"No, sir. Not Darrow. Only a poor devil of a seal that crawled in there to die."
The exploration continued. Half a mile, as they estimated, from the open, they reached a narrow beach, shut off by a perpendicular wall of rock. Skirting this, they returned on the other side, minutely examining every possible crevice. When they again reached the light of day, they had arrived at the certain conclusion that no living man was within those walls.
"Would a corpse rise to the surface soon in waters such as these, Dr. Trendon?" asked the captain.
"Might, sir. Might not. No telling that."
