Enough light came through some of those square holes to suffuse the whole crypt dimly.
"None but an aspirant has ever entered here," said the Gray Mahatma.
"Even when India was conquered, no enemy penetrated this place.

You stand on forbidden ground." He turned to the left and opened an iron cell door by simply pushing it; there did not seem to be any lock.

He did not announce himself, but walked straight in, and we followed him.

The cell was about ten feet by twelve, with a stone ledge wide enough to sleep on running along one side, and lighted by an oil lamp that hung by chains from the hewn roof.
There were three bearded, middle-aged men, almost naked, squatting on one mat facing the stone ledge, one of whom held an ancient manuscript that all three were consulting; and on the stone ledge sat what once had been a man before those devils caught him.
The three looked up at the Gray Mahatma curiously, but did not challenge.

I suppose his nakedness was his passport.