The twins returned to the cellar, one carrying a hammer, the other a bag of nails, they found Richard crouched on the floor with his back to the laboratory door. He looked pale, made worse by that sick light, and his chest was dark red with blood. They heard the muffled thumping from inside the laboratory and shuddered. Richard clambered painfully to his feet, taking the hammer from Emm,
“Pass me a nail.” His voice was hoarse and cracking. Pip handed him a four inch nail, with trembling fingers he held it in position and quickly banged it home.
“No one...” He bashed in the first nail,
“...Ever…” He banged in another,
“...Goes in there again!” And another. He kept on nailing the door shut until he was too weak to hold up the hammer, finally falling to his knees with his face pressed against the rough wood.
Tenderly, the twins helped him up and part-carried him to the bottom of the stairs.
“No, stop…” He gasped, “…Wait a minute.” Richard shook himself free and stumbled across to an old painted wooden dresser that have been abandoned down there years before.
“Help me shift this!...” He crouched down at one end trying to drag it, “…You two get that end!” Between them they managed to drag the heavy old piece in front of the laboratory door, completely obscuring it. The twins, who had been reverentially quiet up till then, finally found their voice,
“Richard, you must stop now, you're badly hurt...” They each took an arm, “...Come with us upstairs now. We must tend to your wounds. We're getting quite good at sewing.”