Suddenly the flame of the lamp began to flicker in a draught.

There was an air-passage between cave and ledge.
"I am sorry," cried Jenks, desisting from further efforts, "that I have not recently read one of Bret Harte's novels, or I would speak to you in the language of the mining camp.

But in plain Cockney, Miss Deane, we are on to a good thing if only we can keep it." They came back into the external glare.

Iris was now so serious that she forgot to extinguish the little lamp.

She stood with outstretched hand.
"There is a lot of money in there," she said.
"Tons of it." "No need to quarrel about division.