Читать книгу The Perfect World. A romance of strange people and strange places онлайн

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When he recovered, his dimmed senses hid from him much of the past. His fever had abated, but he longed for water. His mouth was parched. He crawled feebly to the basket where the dead Daniels had kept his food, and drew out the bottle of tea. There was very little left, but enough to take away the first keen edge of his thirst. A torn newspaper that had been used to wrap up some of the food rustled slightly. It startled him and he looked round nervously. Again it moved, and seemed to be lifted up by some unseen hand.

He watched it fascinated, then suddenly his face lighted up. “A draught,” he cried triumphantly. “Then it is from that direction I must try and secure my release!” With renewed energy he began to pick at the coal, in the fast dimming light of his lantern. Tirelessly he worked, until success met his efforts and he had made a hole big enough to crawl through, whence came the sound of rushing waters.

He lifted his lantern above his head in his endeavour to discover where he was, and its feeble rays shone upon a swiftly flowing, subterranean river that disappeared through a tunnel on either side. The place he was in was very small and had no outlet except by way of the water.