And what a secure trap it was! The mountains ranged all
around the valley were impossible to scale, even by an Alpine climber,
and to one who was not informed of its location the existence of the
valley itself was unimaginable.
"I had not believed Ferralti was so shrewd," he muttered, wonderingly.
"That something was wrong about the fellow I knew, of course; but I had
not suspected such a thing as this. Now, then, first of all let me mark
this spot, so that I will remember it. Just back of where I now stand is
the entrance or outlet to the tunnel through the wall. It is closed, I
suppose, by a swinging stone, like the one on the opposite side. I saw
that one opened--opened by some person concealed from view, as soon as
the boy sang his bit of song which was the signal agreed upon. And I was
fool enough, after that warning, to walk straight through the tunnel!
You're getting old, John Merrick; that's the only way I can account for
your folly. But Ferralti hasn't won the odd trick yet, and if I keep my
wits about me he isn't likely to win."
Thus ruminating, Uncle John searched the rocky wall carefully and
believed he would know the place again, although which of the rough
stones of its surface formed the doorway to the tunnel he could not
guess.
A ledge of rock served as a path leading to right and left around this
end of the valley, or "pocket" in the mountain, as it could more
properly be called.
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