Back in the cave, he stumbled over an iron pipe about four feet long. He went to a brick wall, sat upon the ground and began digging with the pipe. Don’t want to make no noise. . . . He dug until he became thirsty. Well, there was no water; there was nothing to do but kill time or go aboveground. The bricks were coming out easily now. He took out another brick and felt a soft draft blowing into his face. Excited, he listened for sounds. There were none. He made the hole large and crawled through into a dark room and collided with a wall. He went to his right, feeling his way. The wall ended and his fingers toyed experimentally in space, like the antennae of an insect.

His body tensed. He heard a human voice, faint and far off. He went forward into the darkness and his feet struck something that sounded hollow, like wood. What’s this? He felt with his fingers. Steps . . . Where did they lead? Should he go up? Stooping, he pulled off both his shoes and mounted the steps cautiously and saw a chink of yellow light showing through a keyhole. The voice came clear; a man was speaking. He placed his eye to the lock and at first he could not make out what he saw; directly in the narrow line of his vision was the nude, waxen body of a black man stretched out upon a long white table. The invisible voice droned on in indistinguishable words, neither rising nor falling. About the black, naked figure—with its wax-like and semi-transparent pallor—were many medical instruments. Upon a green wall was suspended a huge glass container filled with a deep red liquid. He craned his neck, still puzzled; then he was shocked to see the tip end of a black object lined with pink satin. A coffin. . . . This is an undertaker’s place. . . . He shuddered and a fine-spun lace, icy and invisible, covered the skin of his body.

Suddenly he heard a throaty chuckle sound in the yellow room. He sighed audibly; it seemed that he had been crouching before the keyhole for an endless time. Halfway down the steps it occurred to him that there should be a light switch nearby; he tiptoed back up and felt along the wall and found an electric button. He fingered it for a long time, wondering whether to turn it on. An impulse of recklessness made him flick the knob and a blinding glare smote his pupils so hard that he was completely sightless. If someone opened the door, he would be defenseless against an invisible foe. . . . His pupils finally contracted and he wrinkled his nostrils at a peculiar smell which he had been subconsciously aware of for a long time. Some kind of stuff they use to embalm. . . . He went down the steps and looked about. There were piles of lumber, several coffins, and a long work bench. In one corner he saw a tool box. Yeah . . . that would come in handy; he could tunnel through walls with them. He went to the box and lifted the lid; there were nails, a saw, a hammer, a crowbar, a screwdriver, a bit, a brace and planes. He looked for a flashlight, but there was none. He did find, however, a light bulb, a socket, and a long length of electric wire.