I cannot tell to this day how it was my
companions did not hear the crash. I can only
suppose that a carriage was rumbling along the road
overhead, when I fell.

Suddenly I thought of the rat. If the
horrible thing came towards me, what should I do?
The thought was parent to the belief that the
execrable thing was there. I struck out
instinctively, and, my hand coming upon some of
the broken glass of the lamp, it was cut, and I
felt blood flowing from the wounds. I bound
my handkerchief, my gloves, my cravat, round
and round the wounds, rather than a drop of my
life's blood should fall, to become food for the
horrible creature that had brought me to this
pass.

But I felt I must move— I must seek to free
myself while help was coming. Which way
should I turn?

I remembered that I had entered the passage
on my right, and that the skull was on the left;
then, to leave it, in order to reach the road by
which we had come, I must let it be on my right
hand, and when I had reached the road I must
turn to the left. I soon discovered the inordinately
large skull, left it on my right, and groped
my way the few steps to the roadway. I knew
when I reached it by the angle of bones.
Immediately, my highly-pitched senses perceived a
change. My right cheek experienced an increase
of temperature. Mind— my right cheek.

I asked myself to what this change could be
attributable? I soon answered myself. It was
a current of air from the outer world. Now,
thought I, this current of air— for current it
was, though I could detect no movement in
the atmosphere— must come from an opening;
that opening must be at or near a door; then, if
I follow up against this current, I shall
ultimately reach the spot at which it enters.

Next moment, I know I must have turned
pale, for, when I turned full face towards the
current I could detect no difference of temperature.
It required a contrast between the two
cheeks, as it were, to ascertain the difference.
I have since been told by a scientific friend
that this can be accounted for. The nerves of
the face, when I stood sideways, were struck
by the current laterally, and therefore, not so
naturally as when the lace was set towards it:
because, as all the provisions of nature exhibit
preservation of forces, the nerves of the face in
meeting the wind naturally— that is, when the
man is walking— are so placed in relation to the
wind, as to offer the least possible amount of
nervous surface to its influence.

As suddenly as I had been struck with the
cause of the current I obtained another means
of ascertaining my way. I turned to the wall of
skulls which flanked the main road, and against
which my right hand still was. Now, I thought,
that side of each skull which receives the warm
current precisely as my face received it, will,
from its action, be drier than the other side,
which has been infinitely less open to the
influence of the comparatively drying influence of
this external atmosphere.

It was as I thought. The right side of the
skull— that is, the side which was right when I
stood with my back to the wall— was smoother
than the left; so it was with twenty other skulls.
I was not in error, and my heart beat wildly.
It was clear, let me follow this clue, and sooner
or later it must lead me to the entrance.

But there was a fault!

I knew that we had come along the road which
lay to my left; the current blew from the right.
One of two causes accounted for this. Either
I had become confused in my memory of the
locality, and the right was my road, or there was
more than one entrance to these vaults. I
decided to move to the right. I never learnt
afterwards how many miles I really did travel;
to me it seemed hundreds. I went on and on.
Sometimes rapidly, sometimes slowly, but always
surely. I knew that sooner or later I must come
to a door. When I came to one of the
transverse cuttings, of course I had to make several
steps at random. The duration of those steps
seemed years. My fingers trembled with agony
until they touched once more, the reassuring
line of skulls. Sometimes I missed the clue both
of the drier side of the skull and the test of heat
on my face by turning it sideways, but I soon
regained it by continuing on. I suppose that at
those times I was skirting curves. How many
hours I spent in that wondrous walk, that logical
deduction, if so I may call it, I only knew when
I was once more in the open air. If I had sat
down and waited for help I should either have
gone mad or idiotic, or have killed myself.
Depend on it, reader, no matter how bad your
condition, in whatever fix you may be placed,
there is no help like your own.

I used to hear— I am speaking of my
incarceration as though it lasted months— I used to
hear the rumbling of the carriages overhead
more or less distinctly, according to the depth of
the stone above me. Yet it was company. That
was the only noise which broke my silence— for
I seemed to have gained the faculty of walking
without sound— except on one dear occasion,
when my heart beat so fast that I almost feared
I was going to die. This was when I heard a
voice— a brave, brisk, human voice— singing a
blithe French chansonnette. I saw no light, but
I felt sure I must be near an aperture from the
catacombs, or at least a hole made for ventilating
purposes, opening in some yard or workshop.

And then to think that I had to leave the spot
at which I heard the pleasant sounds, and
continue my journey till I found the origin of the
current! I did not quit it, however, till long
after the song had ceased. I called and halloaed,
but no reply came.

Reverting to that current once more, it was
astonishing how easily I learnt its growing force,
for I concentrated my whole mind upon the
lesson. Ultimately, I could almost calculate the
increase in its motion and temperature which so