"That's so," admitted Bradley, "and I suppose he does feel a bit

cut up about it."

The girl shook her head and edged away from the man--toward the door.

"Come!" said the Englishman. "We've got to get out of here.

If you don't know a better way than the river, it's the river then."

The girl still eyed him askance. "But how could he smile when he

was dead?"

Bradley laughed aloud. "I thought we English were supposed to

have the least sense of humor of any people in the world," he

cried; "but now I've found one human being who hasn't any.

Of course you don't know half I'm saying; but don't worry, little

girl; I'm not going to hurt you, and if I can get you out of

here, I'll do it."

Even if she did not understand all he said, she at least read

something in his smiling, countenance--something which reassured her.

"I do not fear you," she said; "though I do not understand all

that you say even though you speak my own tongue and use words

that I know. But as for escaping"--she sighed--"alas, how can

it be done?"

"I escaped from the Blue Place of Seven Skulls," Bradley

reminded her. "Come!" And he turned toward the shaft and

the ladder that he had ascended from the river. "We cannot

waste time here."

The girl followed him; but at the doorway both drew back, for

from below came the sound of some one ascending.

Bradley tiptoed to the door and peered cautiously into the well;

then he stepped back beside the girl. "There are half a dozen of

them coming up; but possibly they will pass this room."

"No," she said, "they will pass directly through this room--they

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