No! that was inconceivable; there must have originally been an exit somewhere.

But where?
And if discovered would it be found choked by the _debris_ of a century, a mere _cul de sac_?
Surely none of this present generation knew the existence of any such passage.
Yet it was the single desperate chance remaining, and I dare not let doubt numb my faculties.
I gripped the old musket as the only instrument at hand, and began testing the walls.

Three sides I rapped, receiving the same dead, dull response.

I was in the darkest corner now, beyond the stairs, still hopelessly beating the gun barrel against the stone.

The dim light revealed no change in the wall formation, the same irregular expanse of rubble set in solid mortar, hardened by a century of exposure to the dry atmosphere.