Not at any time since the girl and he had wakened in the tower, more than a year ago, had Allan felt so compelling a fear as overswept him then. The siege of the Horde at Madison Forest, the plunge down the cataract, the fall into the Abyss and the battle with the Lanskaarn had all taxed his courage to the utmost, but he had met these perils with more calm than he now faced the blank menace of that metal door.
For now no sky overhung him, no human agency opposed him, no counterplay of stress and strife thrilled his blood.
No; the girl and he now were far underground in a crypt, a tomb, walled round with incalculable tons of concrete, barred from the upper world, alone--and for the first time in his life the man knew something of the anguish of unreasoning fear.
Yet he was not bereft of powers of action. Only an instant he stood there motionless and staring; then with a cry, wordless and harsh, he ran toward the barrier.
Beneath his spurning feet the friable skeletons crumbled and vanished; he dashed himself against the door with a curse that was half a prayer; he strove with it--and staggered back, livid and shaken, for it held!
Now Beatrice had reached it, too. In her hand the torch trembled and shook. She tried to speak, but could not. And as he faced her, there in the tomblike vault, their eyes met silently.
A deathly stillness fell, with but their heart-beats and the sputtering of the torch to deepen it.
"Oh!" she gasped, stretching out a hand. "You--we--can't--"
He licked his lips and tried to smile, but failed.
"Don't--don't be afraid, little girl!" he stammered. "This can't hold us, possibly. The chain--I broke it!"
"Yes, but the bar, Allan--the bar! How did you leave the bar?"
"Raised!"
The one word seemed to seal their doom. A shudder passed through Beatrice.
"So then," she choked, "some air-current swung the door shut--and the bar--fell--"
A sudden rage possessed the engineer.
"Damn that infernal staple!" he gritted, and as he spoke the ax swung into air.
"Crash!"
On the metal plates it boomed and echoed thunderously. A ringing clangor vibrated the crypt.
"Crash!"
Did the door start? No; but in the long-eroded plates a jagged dent took form.
Again the ax swung high. Cold though the vault was, sweat globuled his forehead, where the veins had swelled to twisting knots.
"Crash!"
With a wild verberation, a scream of sundered metal and a clatter of flying fragments, the staple gave way. A crack showed round the edge of the iron barrier.