"I know not," replied Judith, "and I dare not look down the passage."
"Then I will," replied Chowles, and he advanced a few paces up it, and
then hastily returned, shrieking, "it is filled with boiling lead, and
the stream is flowing towards us."
Scarcely able to credit the extent of the danger, Judith gazed down the
passage, and there beheld a glowing silvery stream trickling slowly
onwards. She saw too well, that if they could not effect their retreat
instantly, their fate was sealed.
"The door of the vault!" she cried, pointing towards it, "where is the
key? where is the key?"
"I have not got it," replied Chowles, distractedly, "I cannot tell where
to find it."
"Then we are lost!" cried Judith, with a terrible execration.
"Not so," replied Chowles, snatching up a pickaxe, "if I cannot unlock
the door, I can break it open."
With this, he commenced furiously striking against it, while Judith, who
was completely horror-stricken, and filled with the conviction that her
last moments were at hand, fell on her knees beside him, and gazing down
the passage, along which she could see the stream of molten lead, now
nearly a foot in depth, gradually advancing, and hissing as it came,
shrieked to Chowles to increase his exertions. He needed no incitement
to do so, but nerved by fear, continued to deal blow after blow against
the door, until at last he effected a small breach just above the lock.
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