At length
he removed his ear.
"Pardon me," he whispered, "for keeping you so long in waiting, but
what I have just seen and overheard was of a nature to admit of no
interruption. He is still talking, and by pressing your ear against
the hole you may be able to catch what he says."
"Who is 'he'?"
"Look for yourself."
I placed my eye at the aperture, and almost recoiled with the violence
of my surprise. The tunnel before me was brilliantly illuminated, and
within three feet of the wall of rock behind which we crouched stood
Dr. Syx, his dark profile looking almost satanic in the sharp contrast
of light and shadow. He was talking to one of his foremen, and the two
were the only visible occupants of the tunnel. Putting my ear to the
little opening, I heard his words distinctly:
--"end of their rope. Well, they've spent a pretty lot of money for
their experience, and I rather think we shall not be troubled again by
artemisium-seekers for some time to come."
The doctor's voice ceased, and instantly I clapped my eye to the
hole. He had changed his position so that his black eyes now looked
straight at the aperture.
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