We reached the hatch, and under the cover of the swaying chandelier we slid the serving hatch upwards, the dumb waiter was in place, we did not have to heave it up ourselves and so we crept in. We were very close, very tight together in there. I slid the hatch down and there then we couldn’t see the Great Dining Room any more, the ropes were either side of that tiny shelf-room, we must pull it up bit by bit to let us go down bit by bit. And so we pulled and we started our descending. We bumped and stuttered as we moved. The sounds of the dining room were going away. We could just comprehend, ‘Clod! Clod Iremonger, where are you? I want you!’

Pinalippy’s voice, diminishing.

Little Room Descending

‘Clod, I thought I was dead.’

‘Not dead at all, you see. Down we go.’

The further away from the din of the Great Dining Room we went the closer we grew to the abominable noise of the rooms under the house. The vaulted ceilings echoed noises there at the best of times, but now, on such a night, it could be guaranteed to thunder. And if all those things clamped around the name of Robert Burrington were shifting below, bloat and great, fat with possessions, all with names sounding like the report of fusiliers, then, once down there, I should not hear a thing, I should be very deaf, and only have sight to help me. And then, of course, in addition, there was the flooding.

‘She did seem keen on you, your Pinalippy,’ said Lucy.

‘It’s just the trousers, she never liked me much in shorts.’

‘James Henry Hayward,’ my plug was calling out.

‘All over you, wasn’t she?’

‘Well then, perhaps she was a bit, Lucy.’

‘Enjoyed that?’

‘Are you jealous?’

‘James Henry Hayward,’ he called, growing louder.

‘Certainly am not.’

‘There’s one thing I must tell you, Lucy, before we get very much further.’

‘James Henry Hayward.’ Louder yet. My plug was calling out to down below. He was calling to it, calling.

‘If the heaps have broken through to the centre of the cellars,’ I said, ‘then it shall be too loud for me. The noise of it all. Those names calling out. I shan’t be able to hear anything. Just a great roar. I shan’t be able to hear you.’

‘We shall manage.’

‘James Henry Hayward!’

‘I mean, Lucy, I shall have to rely on you very much. I shan’t be able to hear anyone coming, I shan’t be able to hear anything at all.’

‘James Henry Hayward!’

‘I’ll keep you, Clod, I’ll watch out for you.’

‘Not even if you shout at me,’ I said.

‘James Henry Hayward!’

‘The noise is coming now, Lucy, I hear it rising, and my plug calling back to it!’

‘James Henry Hayward!’