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'Climb aboard； Jim；' said a voice which struck a strange chord in Pooley's rapidly numbing brain。 Jim squinted up from his watery grave to realize for the first time that he was no longer in darkness。 Above him he could see the cowled head and shoulders of a man； leaning from what appeared to be a coracle of skin and bark； extending a rugged…looking oar。 Without hesitation Pooley clutched at the thing and was unceremoniously hauled aboard。 Huddled low in one end of the curious craft lay John Omally； swathed in blankets。
'Nice of you to drop in；' said the Irishman with the rattling teeth。 Pooley made some attempts to wring out his tweed lapels； but soon gave up and resigned himself to death by pneumonia。
'Where are we？' he asked； peering about him。
A wan light emanating from some luminescent substance within the very rocks； which swept dome…like and dizzying high above them； illuminated a monstrous cavern。 The black waters of the subterranean lake spread away in every direction； losing themselves into a great vastness of absolutely nothing。
It all looked a little worrying。
Jim shuddered； and not from the icy cold which now knotted his every muscle。 It was the sheer mind…stunning hugeness of the place； and the fact that it actually existed somewhere deep beneath the roads where he daily set his feet。 And those waters； what might lurk in them？ It didn't bear thinking about。 Jim turned to his saviour。
'You have my thanks； sir；' said he； 'but tell me。。。 ' His words trailed off as the dark figure turned from the oar he had been carefully slotting into its rowlock and confronted the dripping Brentonian。 'Soap？' said Jim。 'Soap； is that you？'
The boatman slipped back the cowl which covered his head and grinned wolfishly； 'Have I changed so much then； Pooley？' he asked。
Jim surveyed the darkly…clad figure； whose black robes threw the deathlike pallor of his face into ghastly contrast。 His hair was peroxide blond and his eyebrows and lashes naught but snowy bristles。 Soap was as white as the proverbial sheet。 Pooley recalled the ruddy…faced Hollow Earth theorist with the sparkling green eyes who had regaled them with talk of Rigdenjyepo and the denizens of the world beneath。 He also recalled only too well that terrible night when Soap had invited him and Omally down into a fantastic tunnel system beneath his house to witness the opening of what Soap believed to be the Portal to Inner Earth。
Pooley and Omally had made a rapid exit from the workings； but Soap had gone through with the thing and opened what turned out to be the stopcocks of the old flood sluices of Brentford Docks。 An entire stretch of Grand Union Canal had drained forthwith into Soap's diggings and that had been the last Brentford had seen of the Hollow Earther。
Pooley stared at Soap in disbelief。 'You do appear slightly altered in your appearance；' he said carefully； as he gazed into the latter's eyes； now pink as an albino's； and slightly luminous。
'Five years below can alter any man；' said Soap； readjusting his cowl。 'I have seen things down here that would stagger the senses of the strongest man。 I have seen sights which would drive the sanity from your head quicker than shit off a shovel。'
Pooley now also recalled that he and Omally had always been of the opinion that Soap was a dangerous lunatic。
'Yes；' said Jim； 'indeed； ah well then； again my thanks for the old life…saving and now if you would kindly show us the way out of here。 I feel that it must be nearing my breakfast time。'
Omally piped up with； 'I have pork in the press if you'd care to e topside with us； Soap me old mate。'
The hooded figure said no more； but sat carefully down and applied himself to the oars。 The curious little craft； with its extraordinary crew； slowly edged its way across the pitch…black waters。 How Soap could have any idea of which way he was travelling seemed totally beyond conjecture。 Hours may have passed； or merely minutes； time did not seem to apply here。 Pooley's Piaget wristwatch had now ceased its ticking for good and all and maintained a sullen rusting silence。 The high dome of rocks seemed unchanging and Omally wondered on occasions whether they were actually moving at all。 Presently； however； a thin line of white appeared upon the horizon。
'Land ho；' said Soap； grinning at his marrow…chilled passengers。
'Would there be any chance of light at the end of the long dark tunnel？' Pooley asked。 'Such as nutrition； or possibly the warming quaff of ale or lick of spirits？'
Soap tapped at his nose in a manner which the two remembered only too well。 'You will be well cared for； you have been long expected。' Upon that doubtful note he withdrew once more into silence and rowed on towards land。 The island； for such it now showed itself to be； was a strange enough place by any reckoning。 As Soap beached the craft and ushered the two ashore； Pooley viewed the place with the gravest misgivings。 There was a dreadful prehistoric gloom about it； if the black waters were bad enough； this was somehow worse。
The island was a long； rough crescent； covered for the most part with enormous stalagmites。 These gave it the appearance of the half…submerged jawbone of some long…dead behemoth。 Pooley felt instinctively that to set foot on such a thing was direly wrong and his thoughts were shared by Omally。 Yet both were wet； cold； hungry； and demoralized； and with little plaint they numbly followed Soap along the bone…white beach to a craggy outcropping which seemed the highest point of the bleak landfall。
'Would you kindly turn your backs a moment？' Soap asked politely。 Pooley eyed his colleague and the blue…faced Irishman shrugged in his blanket shawl。 Soap was but a moment in performing whatever action he had in mind； and when the two turned back； a great doorway yawned in the faceless rock revealing a fortable…looking room of extraordinary size。
'Step inside quickly now； please。 I have no wish to expose the entrance any longer than need be。 There are eyes everywhere； even here。'
Pooley shook his head in redoubled wonder and the two men scuttled inside； followed by their amiable if enigmatic host。 The door swung shut； predictably leaving no trace whatsoever of its existence。
'Now；' said Soap； 'cup of tea； is it？'
A thin smile flickered momentarily upon Omally's arctic boat…race； 'Only Soap Distant could offer a cup of tea at the Earth's core。'
'There have been others；' said Soap； indicating the letters A。S。 which were scratched into the stonework of one of the walls。 'But that is another story entirely。'
Pooley cast his eyes about the room。 It had all the makings of the average Brentford front sitter： the moquette three…piece； the nylon carpet； the occasional table whose occasion was yet to e； the fitted bookshelves and the television set。 But for the hewn rock walls and the obvious lack of windows one might have been fooled into believing that all was suburban mundanity。
'Surely reception hereabouts must be a little ropey？' said Jim； indicating the television。
'Kept purely through nostalgia for my former existence；' said Soap。 'Now； my suggestion of a nice hot cuppa is eliciting very little in the way of positive respo