'Another would be fine。 So how goes the game afoot； Sherlock？'
'A bit iffy as it happens。' Holmes drew out his revolver and flattened himself against the front wall。
Jim rattled his glass against the bottle's neck。 'And you have brought the lads down here after us。 Most enterprising。'
'I never really believed in him； you know；' said John； now refreshing his own glass。
'I looked it all up in the library；' Pooley replied。
'The evidence is very much against him。 Purely fictitious； I so believe。'
'Wise up；' said Sherlock Holmes。 'These mothers mean business。'
The sounds of terrible ghost train screaming leant weight to his conviction。 From beyond； something malevolent was surging forward from the darkness。 Pooley covered his ears and crossed his eyes。 Omally snatched up a Biba table…lamp and prepared once more to do battle。 If the awful screaming was not bad enough； the sounds which acpanied it were sufficient to put the wind up even Saint Anthony himself。 Hideous slurpings and suckings； as of some gigantic mollusc； and thrashing sounds； dragging chains and clicking joints。 All in all； anything but a Christmas hamper。
Omally turned towards Holmes； who now crouched facing the door； Magnum forty…four poised once more between his outstretched hands。 'What in the name of the Holies is it？' he shouted above the growing din。
'It came at me from a basement opening。 I have only seen its like before amongst the work of Hieronymous Bosch。'
This remark meant little to Omally who had always thought a Bosch to be an expensive sports car。 But that the something which was approaching was very very nasty and somewhat overlarge seemed on the cards。
As the first concussion shook the front wall； Holmes fired point…blank into the door。 A gale…force icy wind swept through the bullet…hole； like a blast from a ruptured gas…pipe。 A fetid odour filled the room； the stench of the very pit itself； of all the world's carrion congealed into a single rotting mass。 Holmes staggered back into Omally； coughing and gagging。 The Irishman fell to his knees； covering his nose； and retching violently。 Outside； the thing lashed at the door with redoubled fury。 The iron hinges screamed in anguish； echoing those of the satanic emissary of death。 Beneath the throbbing door； slim； barbed hooks worked and tore。 A yellow haze of brimstone coloured the unbreathable air and the room shook and shivered beneath the hellish assault。
Omally crawled over to Soap Distant； who had wisely assumed the foetal position beneath the table。 'You've got to get us out；' he shouted； tearing away the hands clamped about the albino head。 'There has to be a way。'
'No way。' Soap tore himself from Omally's hold。 'No way。'
Shivers of woodwork flew from the bottom of the door as the evil barbs； now showing porcupine quills and scorpion tails thrashing about them； stripped the Ronseal finish clear down to the filled knot…holes。 Omally stumbled to his feet。 Sherlock Holmes was standing alone in the whirlwind； a speckled band tied bandana…fashion across his face。 A finger in the air。 The doyen of dicks was definitely off his trolley； thought John。 As if reading his thoughts； Holmes suddenly struck him a weltering blow to the skull。 Caught in surprise John hit the deck。 Holmes leapt down upon him and pointed frantically through the swirling； cascading stench。 'Fireplace；' he shouted； his voice all but lost amidst the screaming； the hurricane； and the splintering woodwork。 'Up the chimney； get going； quick。'
It took very little time for Omally to cop on。 Grabbing the huddled Pooley firmly by the collar； he dragged him towards what was surely the only hope of escape。 Holmes stepped over to Soap and booted him in the ribcage。 Soap peered up bitterly towards his tormentor； a dizzy blur； lost for the most part in the maelstrom of tearing elements。 Holmes stretched deftly forward and hooked a pair of fingers into the sub…Earther's nostrils。 'Lead us out！' he cried； bearing him aloft。 Whimpering and howling； but somehow happy for the nose…plugs； Soap staggered forward。 Holmes thrust his head first into the fireplace and then； suddenly enlightened； Soap turned towards his persecutor with a nodding； smiling head and gestured upwards。 Within a moment he was scrabbling into the darkness above。 Omally pressed Jim onwards and followed hard upon his heels。 Holmes spun about； revolver in hand； as the door burst from its hinges to spin a million whirling fragments about him。 The icy gale tore his tweedy jacket from his shoulders as the thing rolled into the room； a tangle of barbs； quills and spikes； whipping and lashing and screaming； screaming。 The great detective held his ground and fired off his revolver again and again into the spinning ball of death as it charged towards him。
The wind and the terror ing from below spurred on the three…man escape mittee as it crept higher and higher up the narrow black chimney。 Soap's voice called down from above； 'e on； lads； shouldn't be more than a mile at most。' Pooley mumbled and plained； but Omally； who was tail…end Charlie and in the most vulnerable position； bit him in the ankle。 A howl of pain and a sudden acceleration from Jim assured the struggling Irishman that the message was well…received。
The going was far from certain and made ever more perilous by the cramped space and the plete and utter darkness。 Stones and grit tumbled down into the climbers' faces。 Soap trod upon Jim's hands and Jim out of fairness trod upon John's。 Higher and higher up the slim shaft of hope they clambered until at last they could no longer feel the icy wind rushing from below or the awful stench souring their nostrils。 They paused a moment； clinging to what they could for dear life； to catch their breath； and cough up what was left of their lungs。
'How much farther； Soap？' Omally wiped at his streaming eyes and strained to support himself whilst delving in his pockets for a fag。
'A goodly way and all of it straight up。'
'There is actually an opening at the top？' Jim ventured。 'I mean I'd just hate to climb all this way and find myself peering out of a ventilation duct in Lateinos and Romiith's basement。'
'Hm。 To be quite candid； this digging is one of the great granddaddy's。 We shall have to trust to the luck of the Distants。'
'Oh； very forting。 Ooh； ow； ouch！'
'Sorry； Jim。 Did I singe your bum？'
'Pass me up that fag； you clumsy oaf。'
'Smoking cigarettes can harm your health；' said Soap。 'Ooh； ow； ouch！'
'Onward； Christian Soldier；' said Jim； withdrawing the lighted fag from Soap's trouser seat。
The three continued their bleak and harrowing journey； now illuminated by the firefly…glow of three burning cigarettes。 The first hour was really quite uneventful； other than for the occasional minor avalanche which threatened to plunge them to a most uninviting oblivion。 It was several minutes into the second that things took a most depressing turn for the worst。
'I hate to tell you this；' said Soap Distant； 'but I've run out of passage。'
'You've bloody what？ Careful there； that's my damn hand you're treading on。'
'Get a move on； Pooley。'
'Shut up； John。'
'Stop the two of you； for God's sake。 I can't climb any higher。'
'Then get to one side and let us pass。'
'He means the passage has e to an end； John。'
'Then stand aside and let me kill him。'
'Shut up； I can see daylight。'
'What？'
The three men strained their eyes into the darkness above。 In the far distance a dim light showed。 A mere pinprick； yet it was some kind of hope； although not a lot。
'Get a move on；' yelled Omally。
'I've told you； something's blocking my way。'
'I just knew it；' said Jim； with the voice of one who just knew it。 'No way up； no way down。 Doomed to starve here until we drop away one by one like little shrivelled up。。。'
'Give it a rest； Jim。 What's in the way； Soap？'
Soap prodded above。 'Some old grill or grating； rusty as hell。'
'Easy on the descriptions。'
'Solid as a rock also。'
'Doom and desolation oh misery； misery。'
'I have plenty of fuel in my lighter； Jim。'
'Sorry； John。 Can't you wiggle it loose； Soap？'
'It's bloody rusted in。 Can't you hear what I'm saying？'
'Let me get up there