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[] Then a faint clicking came from the instrument, and I called down to my friend in a tense voice.

[] Apprehensive as I was, I was nevertheless unprepared for the words which came up from that uncanny vault in accents more alarmed and quivering than any I had heard before from Harley Warren.

[] He who had so calmly left me a little while previously, now called from below in a shaky whisper more portentous than the loudest shriek:

[] "God! If you could see what I am seeing!"

[] I could not answer. Speechless, I could only wait. Then came the frenzied tones again:

[] "Carter, it's terrible—monstrous—unbelievable!"

[] This time my voice did not fail me, and I poured into the transmitter a flood of excited questions. Terrified, I continued to repeat, " Warren , what is it? What is it?"

[] Once more came the voice of my friend, still hoarse with fear, and now apparently tinged with despair:

[] "I can't tell you, Carter! It's too utterly beyond thought—I dare not tell you—no man could know it and live—Great God! I never dreamed of this!"

[] Stillness again, save for my now incoherent torrent of shuddering inquiry. Then the voice of Warren in a pitch of wilder consternation:

[] "Carter! for the love of God, put back the slab and get out of this if you can! Quick!—leave everything else and make for the outside—it's your only chance! Do as I say, and don't ask me to explain!"

[] I heard, yet was able only to repeat my frantic questions. Around me were the tombs and the darkness and the shadows; below me, some peril beyond the radius of the human imagination.

[] But my friend was in greater danger than I, and through my fear I felt a vague resentment that he should deem me capable of deserting him under such circumstances. More clicking, and after a pause a piteous cry from Warren :

[] "Beat it! For God's sake, put back the slab and beat it, Carter!"

[] Something in the boyish slang of my evidently stricken companion unleashed my faculties. I formed and shouted a resolution, " Warren , brace up! I'm coming down!" But at this offer the tone of my auditor changed to a scream of utter despair:

[] "Don't! You can't understand! It's too late—and my own fault. Put back the slab and run—there's nothing else you or anyone can do now!"

[] The tone changed again, this time acquiring a softer quality, as of hopeless resignation. Yet it remained tense through anxiety for me.

[] "Quick—before it's too late!"

[] I tried not to heed him; tried to break through the paralysis which held me, and to fulfil my vow to rush down to his aid. But his next whisper found me still held inert in the chains of stark horror.

[] "Carter—hurry! It's no use—you must go—better one than two—the slab—"

[] A pause, more clicking, then the faint voice of Warren :

[] "Nearly over now—don't make it harder—cover up those damned steps and run for your life—you're losing time—so long, Carter—won't see you again."

[] Here Warren's whisper swelled into a cry; a cry that gradually rose to a shriek fraught with all the horror of the ages—