The air, though close, was not
unpleasant and Kent, his eyes growing gradually accustomed to the
dark interior, tried to discover the trap door at the top of the
box but without success. Putting out his hands he felt along the
top. The height of the casket did not permit him to sit up, so
he was obliged to slide his body down toward his feet to feel
along the sides of the casket. This maneuver soon brought his
knees in violent contact with the top, and at the sound Ferguson
opened the door and assisted him out.
"Had enough of it?" he asked, viewing Kent's reddened cheeks with
faint amusement. "I wonder if Grimes could breathe in there for
any lengthy period. If so, it would help establish the time which
elapsed between his being incarcerated and your finding him, Colonel."
"How so?" demanded McIntyre.
"Well, if he couldn't get air and you hadn't discovered him at once,
he'd have died," explained Ferguson. "If you did find him
immediately the person who knocked him down must have made a
lightning escape."
"Air does get in the casket in some way," broke in Kent.
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