I seen something." He snatched the electric torch, and together they peered at the patch from which the dried earth had fallen.
"Queer for hardpan to break up like that," muttered Ronicky, cutting into the surface beneath the patch, with the point of his hunting knife.
Instantly there was the sharp gritting of steel against steel.
The shout of Ronicky was an indrawn breath.

The shout of Jerry Smith was a moan of relief.
Ronicky continued his observations.

The thing was very clear.

They had dug the tunnel to this point and excavated a place which they had guarded with a steel door, but, in order to conceal the hiding place, or whatever it might be, they cunningly worked the false wall of dirt against the face of it, using clay and a thin coating of plaster as a base.
"It's a place they don't use very often, maybe," said Ronicky, "and that's why they can afford to put up this fake wall of plaster and mud after every time they want to come down here.

Pretty clever to leave that little pile of dirt on the floor, just like it had been worked off by the picks, eh?
But we've found 'em, Jerry, and now all we got to do is to get to the door and into whatever lies beyond." "We'd better hurry, then," cried Jerry.
"How come ?" "Take a breath." Ronicky obeyed; the air was beginning to fill with the pungent and unmistakable odor of burning wood!.