"What on earth can they mean by that? What
on earth can they be driving at? 'Break the pipe of the wires.' I
don't understand them."
Hardly had she spoken, when another sharp tap resounded still more
clearly along the rail at her feet. She bent down her head once
more, and laid her eager ear beside it in terrible suspense. A rough
man's voice--a navvy's, no doubt, or a fireman's--came speeding
along the metal; and it said in thick accents--
"Do you hear what I say? If you want to breathe freer, break the
pipe of the wires, and you'll get fresh air from outside right
through it."
Cyril this time had caught the words, and jumped up with a sudden
air of profound conviction. It was very dark, and the lamps were
going out, but he took his fusee-box from his pocket and struck a
light hastily. Sure enough, on the left-hand side of the tunnel,
half buried in rubbish, an earthenware pipe ran along by the edge
near the wall of the archway. Cyril raised his foot and brought
his heel down upon it sharply with all the strength and force he
had still left in him. The pipe broke short, and Cyril saw within
it a number of telegraph wires for the railway service. The tube
communicated directly with the air outside.
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