At any other time, this would have been a relief. But you can imagine my concern.
Still, for the moment I had a breathing space, though I suspected it would not last long. Eventually these dead yet undying creatures would sort themselves out. I turned and rattled the bars of the gate, though not with any real sense of hope.
"Thaddeus!" I yelped in a tone far from my usual stage-trained baritone. I fear, in fact, that it was more of a squeak.
"Mister Jonathan!"
I sighed in relief as I peered through the grate. "Here, Thaddeus. Where are you? Can you get this damned gate open, please? I am in rather a touchy spot, old man."
On the other side of the locked gate was a middle-sized junction room, not so large as the one where I had first encountered my pursuers. It was better lit than my current tunnel, from overhead grates and the several lanterns which beamed about the edges of the room. Across from my present position was the ladder down which Thaddeus and I had descended earlier, a series of iron rungs set directly into the brick.
I chanced a glance behind me, but the reanimates were still involved in untangling themselves. However, I was chilled to see the fourth had arrived and was trying to climb over his compatriots.
I took a firmer grip of my sword and rattled the gate again.
"Just coming, Mister Jonathan, sir!"
I strained to see my servant, but his burly—and partially metallic, if you recall—form appeared not.
Really, this was getting to be rather irritating.
Then he appeared, from the mouth of the opposite tunnel. Even in the dim light, I could see that all was not well with young Thaddeus. His right eye was swollen nearly shut, and the skin around it was puffy and red, with dashes of vermillion and puce. His lip was split. A tear in the shoulder of his jacket exposed bright metal beneath.
If Thaddeus was so battered, I shuddered at the thought of the damage the other gentleman—surely it had to have been gentlemen?—must have sustained.
"Are you quite all right, old chap?" I asked in some concern as he came towards me with as much alacrity as he could manage.
"Not too bad, sir, thanks for asking," he said as he pulled a key from one pocket. "A pack of those dead'uns came out and attacked me. Had to run 'em off and slice 'em up into bits." Thaddeus was as phlegmatic as usual, though I thought I could detect a bit of excitement struggling to escape. "Thought I'd best lock this gate here, so you wouldn't have any in front of you, unexpected like, if you take my meaning? You be back a bit sooner than I expected, though, and you appear to be in something of a parlous state."
I glanced over my shoulder. The fourth pursuer had climbed over his friends and was fast approaching.
"Indeed," I said. "Can you get me out of here, please?"
"With pleasure," said Thaddeus as he got the lock open at last.
In a trice, or even half a trice, I was on the other side of the gate and it was locked behind me.
Just in time. A hand reached through the rusty metal, scrabbling in the air. The thing's legs kicked the bars, stirring up some sort of yellowish mist which floated out of the tunnel and hovered about knee-level all around us. The most offensive smell imaginable—and do remember we were in the sewers and being menaced by dead men—wafted upwards.
"Gor, what a stink that stuff do have!" Thaddeus said.
I could but agree. Putrefying flesh wasn't even in its league.
"What do you think that is, Mister Jonathan?" asked the dear fellow. "Some sorta gas?"
"Whatever it may be, I suggest we take a sample for Lady Rose and be gone!"
Thaddeus, the stout fellow, pulled a small stoppered flask from his pocket and gave me a wink. He opened the flask, scooped some of the noxious stuff into it, and stuff the cork back in.
"Excellent! Rose will be delighted, will she not? Now come along," I said, heading towards the ladder. "I'll stand you to a pint when we get back to the Hall. Then we shall exchange our adventures with Rose. I confess, I am all agog to hear what she shall say."