And it was Freddie Fassenfelt, Corporal, United States Army, from Crackjaw, Arizona, who spotted the Grotto in the rear garden of the third house he and Sergeant Tom Mix had opened and bugged, and he pointed out an ensete plant growing just by the entrance: "howdya know that?" asked Mix, and the corporal grinned: "cos my old man's a gardener back home and he showed me one cos I was always wantin bananas an he sed that the ensete's a relative of banana trees but it's fruit is underground, d'ya wanna see?" at which Mix asserted his authority: "we are on a Mission corporal, not exploring a market garden, focus, man, FOCUS!" so Fassenfelt opened the back door quicker than the two previous, all the locks were alike and it was like meeting an old friend for the third time in a day, and Mix slipped through with the bag of bugs; so while his sergeant was busy, Fassenfelt lit a cigarette and wandered over to the grotto – it was well constructed, it's cave-like entrance partly hidden by several other shrubs and ferns, so that the American had to kneel to look in; it was densely dark, almost a solid space of blackness, but Freddie pulled out his lighter and flicked it, the interior became suddenly alive and writhing, bodies, arms, legs, grinning teeth, feet pushing backwards to the distant rear, to a tunnel which disappeared into the shadows cast by the chained figures; it was all Freddie could do not to scream, but he had seen worse and just said "easy, guys, easy, don't be afraid of me, we'll getcha out before ol' Pooh-Bah gets back, just hold on there!" which he knew, as he said it, was a dumb-ass thing to say. they couldn't get up and walk away, let alone disappear down the tunnel, for he had seen the iron staples attached to the rock and through which the chains ran, those poor bastards were imprisoned in that cold cave on a freezing December night!