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The iron-merchant, bewildered by the strange and terrifying events that had befallen him, found himself paralyzed with fear even after the two masked attendants had released him. As they turned to seize Gerard Paston, Thorneycroft stood frozen, incapable of exertion, and would likely have made no attempt to escape if not for a sudden, vigorous tug on his coat and a low, urgent voice whispering, “Fly.”

He glanced back, seeing a diminutive figure at the entrance of a side passage, obscured from Rougemont and his attendants. It was Old Parr, disguised as a monkey, pulling at his coat. With surprising strength, the dwarf tugged him into the passage and grasped his hand, dragging him along its dark, winding path.

“Where are you taking me?” Thorneycroft panted, trying to halt their progress.

“Ask no questions,” Old Parr hissed, pulling him forward. “Do you want to be captured and locked in a cell for the rest of your life?”

“Certainly not,” Thorneycroft replied, quickening his pace. “I hope there’s no chance of it.”

“Every chance,” Old Parr muttered. “If they catch us, you’ll share Anthony’s fate.”

“Oh Lord, I hope not,” groaned Thorneycroft. “You’re scaring me so much I can’t move. I’ll collapse any second.”

“Move!” screamed the dwarf. “They’re right behind us.”

Shouts and the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps echoed through the passage.

“I can’t go any further,” Thorneycroft gasped, collapsing. “I’m done for. Better to surrender now.”

“Without a fight?” Old Parr taunted. “Think of your daughter. She’s lost forever if you don’t escape this cursed place.”

“She’s lost forever as it is,” Thorneycroft cried in despair.

“No—there’s still hope,” Old Parr urged. “Come on—they’re almost upon us!”

The increased clamor of their pursuers spurred Thorneycroft into action. Fueled by desperation and the hope of saving his daughter, he sprang forward. They reached a door, only to find it closed. Old Parr frantically searched for the handle but found none.

“We’re trapped! We’re doomed!” he screamed. “I was a fool to try saving you. We should have rotted in a dungeon rather than incur Rougemont’s wrath.”

Thorneycroft groaned in response. “It’s over. I’ll die here.”

“No—we’re saved!” Old Parr cried as the light from their pursuers’ torches revealed a small iron button. “Saved—saved!”

He pressed the button, releasing a spring, and the door flew open. They slipped through just as the masked attendants came into view. The dwarf slammed the door shut and bolted it from their side. The pursuers crashed against the door, but it held firm. After a few moments, the pounding stopped, and the footsteps receded.

“They’re finding another way to intercept us,” Old Parr warned, pausing to listen. “We must keep moving, Mr. Thorneycroft.”

“I’ll try,” the iron-merchant replied with a groan, “but I’m spent. Why did I ever come to this place?”

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“It’s too late for regrets. You came to rescue your daughter,” Old Parr said. “Stay close. Who knows where this passage leads?”

“Don’t you know?” Thorneycroft asked, his voice trembling.

“Not at all,” the dwarf admitted. “This is my first time here, and it will be my last if I have any say.”

“How did you even get here?” Thorneycroft asked, bewildered.

“I hardly know,” Old Parr replied, his voice tinged with frustration. “But it’s proving much harder to leave than to enter. This passage twists like a serpent. It feels like we’re going in circles.”

“I think we’re spinning ourselves,” Thorneycroft cried, his fear mounting. “My head is spinning. Oh dear, oh dear!”

“Why, this is uncanny,” the dwarf muttered, coming to a halt. “It feels like the very walls are shifting around us.”

“They are moving,” Thorneycroft gasped, his hand outstretched against the cold stone. “Lord, have mercy! Deliver us from the Evil One!”

“The place is on fire,” the dwarf exclaimed, his voice tinged with urgency. “Thick smoke is filling the passage. Can’t you smell it, Mr. Thorneycroft?”

“Of course I do!” Thorneycroft coughed violently. “It’s like being trapped in a room with a clogged chimney and no open window. I’m suffocating!”

“Keep moving!” the dwarf urged, seemingly unbothered. “We’ll be out of the smoke soon.”

“I can’t stand it,” Thorneycroft wheezed. “I’ll die here. Oh! I can’t breathe!”

“Come on,” Old Parr insisted. “You’ll find fresh air in a minute. Wait—what’s this? No outlet? We’ve hit a dead end.”

“Dead end!” Thorneycroft echoed, panic rising in his voice. “What now? What new horror awaits?”

“A solid wall blocks our way,” Old Parr replied, his tone oddly calm.

“Blocked?” Thorneycroft cried. “Then we’re entombed alive!”

“I am,” the dwarf said nonchalantly. “For you, it’ll soon be over. Nothing can harm me.”

“Don’t be so sure,” a voice echoed from above.

“Did you speak, Mr. Thorneycroft?” asked the dwarf, his unease growing.

“N-no, not I,” Thorneycroft gasped, on the verge of collapse. “Help me out of here!”

“Get out if you can,” the voice taunted.

“It’s Rougemont,” the dwarf hissed in fear. “We’re trapped. There’s no escape.”

“None whatsoever, rascal,” Rougemont’s unseen presence confirmed. “I need you. There’s more work to be done.”

“I won’t leave Mr. Thorneycroft,” the dwarf shouted defiantly. “I swore to protect him, and I will.”

“Fool!” Rougemont spat. “You must obey my commands.”

A hand suddenly shot down from above, seizing the dwarf by the neck and lifting him effortlessly.

“Grab me, Mr. Thorneycroft!” Old Parr screamed. “They’re taking me! Pull me down!”

Choking on the thick, acrid smoke, Thorneycroft found himself unable to comply. Before he could react, Old Parr was hoisted out of reach. Left alone, the iron-merchant stumbled blindly through the passage, each breath a struggle, until a gust of fresh air hit his face, reviving him slightly. He moved forward cautiously, barely avoiding a pit that yawned open before him.

A brazen lamp flickered under an archway, revealing a ladder leading down. Thorneycroft descended carefully but was abruptly seized by a man who emerged from the shadows. The grip loosened almost immediately.

“Bless my heart, if it ain’t Mr. Thorneycroft,” the familiar voice of the Tinker exclaimed.

“Yes, it’s me,” Thorneycroft replied, relief washing over him. “Who’s with you?”

“Who else but the Sandman,” the Tinker grunted. “We’ve freed ourselves and made some discoveries.”

“What have you found?” Thorneycroft asked breathlessly. “Have you found my daughter? Where is she? Take me to her!”

“Not so fast, old gent,” the Tinker replied. “We ain’t sure we’ve found your daughter, but we’ve seen a young woman.”

“It must be her!” Thorneycroft cried. “Take me to her immediately!”

“But we can’t get to her,” the Tinker explained. “We know where she’s held—that’s all.”

“Take me there,” Thorneycroft pleaded.

“Follow me, then,” the Tinker said, moving toward the archway. “Sandy, did you shut the door?”

“Not I,” replied the Sandman. “Open it.”

“Easier said than done,” the Tinker grumbled. “It’s bolted from the other side!”

“Someone followed you,” Thorneycroft groaned. “We’re watched on all sides.”

“And from above, too!” the Sandman shouted in alarm. “Look up!”

“What now?” Thorneycroft asked, dread filling his voice.

“The roof’s coming down!” the Sandman cried. “We’ve got to get out of here!”

They pounded against the door in vain, while the Sandman rushed to the ladder. Before he could climb, an immense iron cover slid into place, sealing the pit and trapping them inside. The heavy clang echoed like a death knell in the suffocating darkness.