Return to the Lost Planet by Angus MacVicar

Author:Angus MacVicar [MacVicar, Angus]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Venture Press
Published: 2015-10-29T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XI

The Opening Door

In the long dark tunnel Uncle Lachlan’s voice echoed away in a whisper: “If I heard it anywhere else I’d say it was the sound of a huge dynamo.”

I felt cold, as one often does in moments of intense excitement. “But—but there can’t be a dynamo down there!” I said.

“There’s power, Jeremy—power of some kind.” As he spoke the humming noise reached us again, throbbing in our ears and then once more sinking into silence. “Notice how it’s coming up the shaft in irregular waves. You can feel a current of air, too.”

“It’s as if there was something living—hundreds of feet below us here.”

“I think there is life. But what kind of life we cannot tell—as yet.”

We went on again. I was afraid to go on, but at the same time no one could have persuaded me to go back. There was a mystery here—a mystery which just had to be solved. It made me afraid, but it fascinated me, too, like the hooded eyes of a snake.

We had told the others that if we didn’t return to the mouth of the tunnel in half an hour they were to come after us; and as we continued our journey, down and down into the dark, we soon realised that we couldn’t possibly be back in time. About half an hour had gone by when my torch flashed against what seemed to be the end of the tunnel—a flat dusty surface like the bottom of a tumbler.

It was very quiet now. The sound we had heard had completely disappeared, and as we stared at the solid barrier confronting us, I had a feeling of sharp disappointment.

But Uncle Lachlan didn’t appear to be disappointed. “That’s odd,” he said, his words fluttering in the high roof like birds. “If this tunnel has been cut out artificially why should it come to a dead stop here?”

He took the torch from me and went closer to the barrier. “M’m—odder still” he remarked. “The flat surface doesn’t seem to fit properly. There’s a kind of narrow chink all round, between it and the walls.”

Finally he struck it with the butt of the torch, and once again excitement tingled through every vein in my body, for the dusty surface gave out a metallic clang.

“Gosh,” I exclaimed, “it’s hollow!”

He was excited, too. I could sense it, though when he spoke his voice remained dry and precise. “This,” he said, “becomes more and more interesting!” Then he added: “I’m almost sure of it, Jeremy. It’s a great iron door, sealing off what’s behind it from the outer part of the tunnel.”

“But why?” I blurted out. “What does it mean?”

He pointed to the floor, and I saw that the barrier rested in a slot in the stone. “If I’m not mistaken,” he said, “it’s actually a flat piece of iron shaped like a wheel. It may open by rolling sideways along that groove.”

“There’s no way of opening it,” I answered. “From this side at any rate.”

He nodded, flicking the torch.

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