The rest was comparatively easy， for taking off his linen robe， Japhet knotted it once or twice， and let it down to us. By the help of this improvised rope， with Orme supporting me beneath， I， too， was dragged up to the coping of the wall. Then both of us pulled up Oliver， who， without a word， swung himself over the wall， hanging to Japhet's arms， and loosing his hold， dropped to the ground on the farther side. Next came my turn. It was a long fall， and had not Oliver caught me I think that I should have hurt myself. As it was， the breath was shaken out of me. Lastly， Japhet swung himself down， landing lightly as a cat.
The lamps he had already dropped to us， and in another minute they were all lighted， and we were speeding down the great cavern.
"Be careful，" I cried； "there may be fallen rocks about."
As it happened I was right， for at that moment Oliver struck his legs against one of them and fell， cutting himself a good deal. In a moment he was up again， but after this our progress grew slow， for hundreds of tons of stone had been shaken from the roof and blocked the path.
Also， whole buildings of the ancient and underground city had been thrown down， although these were mostly blown inward by the rush of air. At length we came to the end of the cave， and halted dismayed， for here， where the blast of the explosion had been brought to a full stop， the place seemed to be crowded with rocks which it had rolled before it.
"My God！ I believe we are shut in，" exclaimed Oliver in despair.
But Japhet， lantern in hand， was already leaping from block to block， and presently， from the top of the débris， called to us to come to him.
"I think there is a road left， though a bad one， lords，" he said， and pointed to a jagged， well-like hole blown out， as I believe， by the recoil of the blast. With difficulty and danger， for many of the piled up stones were loose， we climbed down this place， and at its bottom squeezed ourselves through a narrow aperture on to the floor of the cave， praying that the huge door which led to the passage beyond might not be jammed， since if it were， as we knew well， our small strength would not avail to move it. Happily， this fear at least proved groundless， since it opened outward， and the force of the compressed air had torn it from its massive stone hinges and thrown it shattered to the ground.
We scrambled over it， and advanced down the passage， our revolvers in our hands. We reached the audience hall， which was empty and in darkness. We turned to the left， crossing various chambers， and in the last of them， through which one of the gates of the palace could be approached， met with the first signs of the tragedy， for there were bloodstains on the floor.
Orme pointed to them as he hurried on， and suddenly a man leapt out of the darkness as a buck leaps from a bush， and ran past us， holding his hands to his side， where evidently he had some grievous hurt. Now we entered the corridor leading to the private apartments of the Child of Kings， and found ourselves walking on the bodies of dead and dying men. One of the former I observed， as one does notice little things at such a moment， held in his hand the broken wire of the field telephone. I presume that he had snatched and severed it in his death pang at the moment when communication ceased between us and the palace.
We rushed into the little antechamber， in which lights were burning， and there saw a sight that I for one never shall forget.
In the foreground lay more dead men， all of them wearing the livery of Prince Joshua. Beyond was Sergeant Quick， seated on a chair. He seemed to be literally hacked to pieces. An arrow that no one had attempted to remove was fast in his shoulder； his head， which Maqueda was sponging with wet cloths--well， I will not describe his wounds.
Leaning against the wall near by stood Higgs， also bleeding， and apparently quite exhausted. Behind， besides Maqueda herself， were two or three of her ladies， wringing their hands and weeping. In face of this terrible spectacle we came to a sudden halt. No word was spoken of by any one， for the power of speech had left us.
The dying Quick opened his eyes， lifted his hand， upon which there was a ghastly sword-cut， to his forehead， as though to shade them from the light--ah！ how well I recall that pathetic motion--and from beneath this screen stared at us a while. Then he rose from the chair， touched his throat to show that he could not speak， as I suppose， saluted Orme， turned and pointed to Maqueda， and with a triumphant smile sank down and--died.
Such was the noble end of Sergeant Quick.
To describe what followed is not easy， for the scene was confused.
Also shock and sorrow have blurred its recollection in my mind. I remember Maqueda and Orme falling into each other's arms before everybody. I remember her drawing herself up in that imperial way of hers， and saying， as she pointed to the body of Quick：
"There lies one who has shown us how to die. This countryman of yours was a hero， O Oliver， and you should hold his memory in honour， since he saved me from worse than death."
"What's the story？" asked Orme of Higgs.
"A simple one enough，" he answered. "We got here all right， as we told you over the wire. Then Maqueda talked to you for a long while until you rang off， saying you wanted to speak to Japhet. After that， at ten o'clock precisely， we heard the thud of the explosion. Next， as we were preparing to go out to see what had happened， Joshua arrived alone， announced that the idol Harmac had been destroyed， and demanded that the Child of Kings， 'for State reasons，' should accompany him to his own castle. She declined and， as he insisted， I took it upon myself to kick him out of the place. He retired， and we saw no more of him， but a few minutes later there came a shower of arrows down the passage， and after them a rush of men， who called， 'Death to the Gentiles. Rescue the Rose.'
