Sentence The Ninth

Down, down and ever down, Maude Lyttleton drew Roxie Davidova into the bowels of Edinburgh; stairs gave way to rough stone steps; rough steps to even rougher passageways, and these then became a steeper descent through a kind of natural crevice, leading ever down – Maude's mouth was set with firm determination, Roxy's an O of wonderment, quite appropriate to the term 'os' which crossed Maude's mind as she glanced back, for she was sure that despite her confusion, Roxy was quite a savvy individual, capable of comprehending what was happening to her at any given moment – and then, of a sudden, a wail brought them to a halt, for it seemed to come from beneath their feet and Maude, dropping to her knees began to scrabble through the dust and grit and discarded bones of small rodents which littered the place; her eyes smarted, her breath was ragged, she feared for the worst, till “Stop!” cried Roxie, placing a hand on Maude's arm, “be still,” she admonished and Maude was still, gazing at Roxie's face, which seemed to glow, until “There!” she cried, this time pointing at a tiny gleam in the dust and excrescence, and flung herself down like some kind of divinely inspired vates, and quickly cleared enough to show a rude hatch, with two bolts securing it; she drew them back and the hatch swung downwards revealing total darkness, except for the red glow of a cigar, behind which they saw the faint impression of Daphne Dumbiedykes face, smeared with dirt and framed by tousled hair as she reached up, grasped the frame of the trapdoor and hauled herself out and embraced Maude, kissing her face and showering her with endearments: “I dropped my last match,” she said, “but you found me in the nick of time, my darling, you saved my bacon,” to which Maude responded with a touching demeanour, full of genuine veridicality, including Roxy in a warm embrace, and saying, “'’twas Roxy, she found the hatch, Bless her!” and all three, linking arms, joyfully began their journey to the surface.