“The police must not be able to say that I have arranged this for their benefit,” Fandor remarked. “Cost what it may, if I do not come across Dollon’s corpse below, I must find out tomorrow whether these hairs match his.” Fandor went on descending, and first in one place, then in another, he saw on the walls of this chimney whitish patches such as might have been caused by the passage of a heavy mass or body, hanging at the end of a rope, and striking against the walls on its way down. Whilst he still believed himself to be some distance from the end of his downward journey, he felt a point of resistance beneath his feet. At first he mistook it for firm ground, much to his surprise. He was about to leave go of his cord when a remnant of caution restrained him.

“How do I know there is not an abyss – depths upon depths below me – down into the very bowels of the earth!

I had better take care.”

What Fandor had taken for firm ground was nothing but an iron staple projecting from the wall. Fandor seized it, stopped for a minute or two’s breathing space, ascertained, by drawing it up, that of his cord there were only a few yards remaining; but he also perceived, and with what relief, that from where he was resting on downwards, the chimney was, as far as he could see by his lantern’s light, marked into regular spaces by these iron staples, which are sometimes placed there for the use of chimney cleaners and masons.

Fandor found them a most convenient kind of ladder. The descent now became easy, and in a short time the adventurous journalist reached the bottom of the chimney.

At first he could not understand where he had got to. In the thick gloom around him his lantern’s gleam of light showed him a kind of vaulted wall of massive masonry. He advanced a stop or two with noiseless tread, listening, on the alert. Not a sound could be heard: he decided to expose the full light of his lantern.

The brighter light showed him that the chimney, from which he was now standing some yards away, ended in a kind of sewer, evidently no longer in use; and the splashing sound he had heard on the far-up heights of the Palais roofs emanated from a thin and muddy stream of water flowing in the middle of the sewer channel in the direction of the Seine. Kneeling at the foot of the chimney Fandor could distinguish the marks of prints made by human feet: much deeper and very different indentations were visible also.