Dr. Burrows examined the dark glasses. They consisted of two pieces of thick and absolutely flat, almost opaque, glass, similar to welder's goggles, with curious spring mechanisms on the arms on either side — evidently to keep them snug against the wearer's head. He was puzzled. Why would the strange people keep their belongings in a forgotten wardrobe in an empty basement?
"Does anyone else come here, Mrs. Tantrumi?" Dr. Burrows said to her as she started to pour the tea with a very shaky hand.
There was a lull in the rattling as she looked confused. "I really don't know what you mean," she said, as if Dr. Burrows was suggesting she had been doing something improper.
"It's just that I've seen some rather odd characters around this part of town — always wearing big coats and sunglasses like these…," Dr. Burrows trailed off, because the old woman was looking so anxious.
"Oh, I hope they aren't those criminal types one hears about. I don't feel safe here anymore—"
"So you haven't seen any people in coats like these — men with white hair?" Dr. Burrows interrupted.
"No, dear, can't say I know what you're talking about." She looked inquiringly at him, then resumed pouring the tea. "Do come in and sit down."
"I'll just put these back," Dr. Burrows said, returning to the basement. Before he left, he couldn't resist another quick look around the place, even resorting to stamping on the ground to see if there was a trapdoor hidden there. He did the same in the small garden, stamping around the lawn while trying to avoid the plastic dishes, all the time watched curiously by Mrs. Tantrumi's cats.
On the other side of town, Chester and Will were back in the Forty Pits tunnel.
"So what did your dad say? What does he think we've found?" Chester asked as Will used a mallet and coal chisel to loosen the mortar between the bricks in the unidentified structure.
"We looked at the maps again, and there's nothing on them." He was lying; Dr. Burrows had not emerged from the cellar before Will had gone to bed and had left the house before Will was up in the morning.
"No water mains, sewers, or anything on this plot," Will went on, trying to reassure Chester. "The brickwork is pretty solid, you know — this thing was built to last." Will had already removed two layers of bricks but hadn't yet broken through. "Look, if I'm wrong about this and anything gushes out, just make sure you get yourself to the far side of the main chamber. The flow should carry you up to the entrance," Will said, redoubling his efforts on the brickwork.
"What?" Chester asked quickly. "A flow… carry me up? I don't like the sound of that at all. I'm out of here." He turned to go, paused as if undecided, then made up his mind and began walking toward the main chamber, grumbling to himself all the way.
Will simply shrugged. There was no way he was going to stop, not with the possibility that he could bring to light some fantastic mystery, something so important that it would bowl over his father, and that he'd discovered by himself. And no one was going to stop him, not even Chester. He immediately proceeded to chisel around another brick, chipping away at the wedge of mortar at its edge.
Without warning, part of the mortar exploded with a high pneumatic hiss, and a chunk of it shot straight past Will's gloved hands like a stone bullet and struck the tunnel wall behind him. He dropped his tools and flopped back onto the ground in astonishment. Shaking his head, he pulled himself together and set about the task of removing the brick, which he accomplished in seconds.
"Hey, Chester!" Will called.
"Yeah, what?" Chester shouted gruffly from the main chamber. "What is it?"
"There's no water!" Will shouted back, his voice echoing oddly. "Come and see."
Chester reluctantly retraced his steps. He found that Will had indeed penetrated the wall and was holding his face up to the small breach he'd made, sniffing at the air.
"It's definitely not a sewage pipe, but it was under pressure," Will said.
"Could it be a gas pipe?"
"Nope, doesn't smell like it and, anyway, they've never been made of brick. Judging by the echo, it's quite a large space." His eyes flashed with anticipation. "I just knew we were on to something. Get me a candle and the iron rod from the main chamber, will you?"
When Chester returned, Will lit the candle a good distance back from the hole and then carried it slowly before him, nearer and nearer to the opening, watching the flame intently with every step he took.
"What does that do?" Chester asked as he looked on in fascination.
"If there are any gases you'll notice a difference in the way it burns," Will answered matter-of-factly. "They did this when they cracked open the pyramids." There was no change in the flickering flame as he brought it closer, then held it directly in front of the opening. "Looks like we're all clear," he said as he blew out the flame and reached for the iron rod Chester had leaned against the tunnel wall. He carefully lined up the ten-foot pole with the hole and then rammed it through, pushing it all the way in until only a short length protruded from between the bricks.
"It hasn't hit anything — it's pretty big," Will said excitedly, grunting with exertion as he checked the depth by letting the end of the pole swing down. "But I think I can feel what might be the floor. OK, let's widen this a bit more."
They worked together and within moments had removed enough bricks for Will to slither through headfirst. He landed with a muffled groan.
"Will, are you all right?" Chester called.
"Yes. Just a bit of a drop," he replied. "Come in feetfirst, and I'll guide you down."
Chester made it through after a tremendous struggle, his shoulders being broader that Will's. Once he was in, they both began to look around.
It was an octagonal chamber, with each of its eight walls arching up to a central point about twenty feet above their heads. At its apex was what appeared to be a carved stone rose. They shone their flashlights in hushed reverence, taking in the Gothic beading set into the perfectly laid brickwork. The floor was also constructed from bricks laid end on end.
"Awesome!" Chester whispered. "Who'd have ever expected to find anything like this?"
"It's like the crypt of a church, isn't it?" Will said. "But the strangest thing is…"
"Yes?" Chester shone his flashlight at Will.
"It's absolutely bone-dry. And the air's sort of sharp, too. I'm not sure—"
"Have you seen this, Will?" Chester interrupted, flicking his light around the floor and then over the wall nearest to him. "There's something written on the bricks. All of them!"
Will immediately swiveled around to study the wall closest to him, reading the elaborate Gothic script carved into the face of every brick. "You're right. They're names: James Hobart, Andrew Kellogg, William Butts, John Cooper…"
"Simon Jennings, Daniel Lethbridge, Silas Samuels, Abe Winterbotham, Caryll Pickering… there must be thousands in here," Chester said.
Will pulled his mallet from his belt and began to knock on the walls, taking soundings to see if there was any sign of a hollow or adjoining passage. He had methodically tapped away at two of the eight walls when for no apparent reason he suddenly stopped. He clapped a hand to his forehead and swallowed hard.
"Do you feel that?" he asked Chester.
"Yeah, my ears popped," Chester agreed, sticking a gloved finger roughly into one of his ears. "Just like when you take off in a plane."
They were both silent, as if waiting for something to happen. Then they felt a tremor, an inaudible tone, somewhat akin to a low note played on an organ — a throbbing was building, seemingly within their skulls.
"I think we should get out." Chester looked at his friend blankly, swallowing now not because of his ears but because of the waves of nausea welling up inside him.