So there was nothing for it but to go on working with the crowbar. At
length, towards the evening of the third day of their labour, when the
two men were utterly tired out, a hole was broken through, demonstrating
the fact that beneath this cover lay a hollow of some sort. Mr.
Clifford, to say nothing of Benita, who was heartily weary of the
business, wished to postpone proceedings till the morrow, but Jacob
Meyer would not. So they toiled on until about eleven o'clock at night,
when at length the aperture was of sufficient size to admit a man. Now,
as in the case of the well, they let down a stone tied to a string, to
find that the place beneath was not more than eight feet deep. Then, to
ascertain the condition of the air, a candle was lowered, which at first
went out, but presently burnt well enough. This point settled, they
brought their ladder, whereby Jacob descended with a lantern.
In another minute they heard the sound of guttural German oaths rising
through the hole. Mr. Clifford asked what was the matter, and received
the reply that the place was a tomb, with nothing in it but an accursed
dead monk, information at which Benita could not help bursting into
laughter.
The end of it was that both she and her father went down also, and
there, sure enough, lay the remains of the old missionary in his cowl,
with an ivory crucifix about his neck, and on his breast a scroll
stating that he, Marco, born at Lisbon in 1438, had died at Bambatse in
the year 1503, having laboured in the Empire of Monomotapa for seventeen
years, and suffered great hardships and brought many souls to Christ.
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