It was not until some minutes after the steel door had clicked shut that
the full realization of our predicament came to us. Rau's story had been
so fascinating, and his manner so rational and civilized that we all had
forgotten that he was of a race and ideology opposed to all that we
stood for, and that we were spies caught red-handed in the innermost
shrine of Neo-Buddhism. Even after twenty years of cold war, all of our
civilized instincts rose against the idea that a suave brilliant
intellectual like Phobat Rau could so cold bloodedly order our deaths.
But the awakening was at hand. If we doubted Rau's intentions, one look
at the cold Mongol faces of the guards was enough to dispel any hope.
Baker tried to sum it up.
"No use trying to argue with him. Fact is, we won't even see Rau again.
We could, of course, simply call it quits and wait for them, but I'd
rather fight it out. Anyone have an idea?"
Martin hopped up on the bench and studied the ventilator. He reached one
arm in as far as possible, and reported that there was a bend about a
foot in. While he was doing this, Chamberlin made a minute investigation
of the door, but found that neither hinges nor lock were accessible.
There were no other openings into the chamber save the electric conduit
which presumably entered above the electric fixture in the ceiling.
Finally Baker spoke.
"Nothing we can do until they come for us. We'd better plan towards
that, unless they're going to gas us through the ventilator."
This unpleasant thought had not occurred to the rest of us before.
Martin returned to the opening and sniffed, and then with happy
inspiration, he rolled up his jacket and stuffed it in. Baker nodded
approval.
So the time passed. We listened at the door for footsteps but none came.
Presently we became aware of a now familiar sensation. The floor
commenced to shake gently and regularly. We counted the steps. There
were twelve, and then they stopped. Chamberlin calculated mentally.
"Say, about 250 feet per step. That would be three thousand feet--six
tenths of a mile. Wonder where--"
Martin, still near the ventilator, shushed him, and pulled the coat out.
Through the small hole we heard a deep sound, a sort of low pitched
irregular rumble. Baker suddenly jumped up and listened at the opening.
After a bit the sound stopped. Baker became excited.
"It was a voice," he explained. "I think it was _his_ voice. It was
speaking Japanese. I couldn't catch many words, but I think he was
talking about us."
Now the rumble came again, and louder. A few words, a pause, and then
more words, as though he was in conversation with someone whom we could
not hear. Baker listened intently, but he could catch only fragments,
owing to his small knowledge of Japanese and the extremely low pitched
articulation of the giant. Presently the voice rose to a volume which
literally made the mountain tremble, and then it stopped.
Baker shook his head. "Couldn't make it out. I think he was inquiring
where we were, but it was too idiomatic. I think he became excited or
angry at the last."
"Fee, fi, fo, fum," said Chamberlin. "Now wouldn't _that_ be an
interesting end?"