i placed my revolver, cocked, upon the top of the wooden case behind which i crouched. holmes shot the slide across the front of his lantern and left us in pitch darkness—such an absolute darkness as i have never before experienced. the smell of hot metal remained to assure us that the light was still there, ready to flash out at a moment’s notice. to me, with my nerves worked up to a pitch of expectancy, there was something depressing and subduing in the sudden gloom, and in the cold dank air of the vault.