Crown and Sceptre | Page 8

after a little feeling about he was able to announce that there was a narrow slit-like window, with an upright rusty iron bar.
"Why, it will be glorious, Scar," cried Fred. "Let's clear the place out, and cut away the ivy, and then we can keep it all a secret."
"Yes, and bring some furniture--chairs and table, and a carpet. Why, we might have a bed too."
"How are you going to get them here?"
Scarlett gave his dark curls a vicious rub. "I never thought of that."
"Never mind; but we could bring some cushions, and store up fruit, and make this our cave. You will not tell anybody?"
"I should think not."
"Not even Lil."
"No; she'd go and tell every one directly. Why, Fred, this will be splendid. What a discovery!"
"When we've cleaned it up it will be a little palace."
"And we can keep our stores in the closet there, and--Think there'll be any rats?"
"No signs of any. Can't smell 'em."
"They've never found their way here. Dare say there are some bats; but we'll soon clear them out. Wish there were a fireplace. We could cook the birds and fish we caught."
"Let's see what's in the cupboard."
Fred crossed the little chamber to the corner where the second door stood ajar, and it was so similar to the panelling that but for its being partly opened, it would not have been seen.
This, too, gave forth a dismal hollow groan as it was drawn inward upon its concealed rusty hinges, and then, as Fred raised the light to see what was inside, he exclaimed--
"Why, it isn't a cupboard. Here's another flight of steps!"
Scarlett pressed forward and stood beside him, peering beneath the candle, and looking down the dusty stone stairs into utter darkness beyond the faint light shed by the candle.
Then he turned to Fred as he grasped his arm and looked inquiringly into his face.
"I will if you will," said Fred, as if his companion had asked him a question.
"Come along, then," cried Scarlett, excitedly. "Only let's keep together."
"Of course. Shall I go first?"
"No, I'll go," said Scarlett, after a momentary hesitation.
He snatched the candle from his friend's hand, and took a step forward on to the little square landing.
"Mind the door doesn't blow to. Push it wide open."
Fred did as he was told, the rusty hinges giving forth another dismal groan, which seemed to echo hollowly and then to die away.
"Come along," said Scarlett, in a low voice; and, holding the candle well before him, he began to descend the narrow steps, the distance from side to side being precisely the same as before.
"Smells cold and damp," whispered Fred, when they had descended about twenty steps; "just like a wine cellar."
"Perhaps it is one when we get to the bottom, and full of old wine."
"Are there many more steps?"
"Can't see. Shall we go any farther?"
"Oh yes; we'll go to the bottom, as we are here."
"Stop a moment. What was that?"
"I didn't hear anything."
"Yes; there it is again."
"Sounded like a drip of water in a pool."
"Perhaps it's a well."
"They wouldn't make a well here. Let's go to the bottom, and then be satisfied for one day."
"Take hold of hands then, in case."
"In case of what?"
"There may be foul air at the bottom, same as there was in the Manor well."
"You are saying that to frighten me."
"No."
"Well, it sounded like it. Let's go on."
The two explorers of this hidden way went on down and down, with the sounds made by their feet echoing strangely; but still there were fresh steps, and the distance seemed in their excited state to be tremendous. Scarlett, however, persevered, though his movements were slower and slower; and more than once he turned back to hold the light as high as possible, so as to gaze up at the way they had come, looking over his shoulder, and still holding tightly by Fred's hand.
"We must be right down ever so much below the house," he said at last. "Shall we go any farther?"
"Oh yes, I'd go on," replied Fred, quietly; and once more the two lads gazed in each other's eyes as if looking for signs of fear.
"Come along then," cried Scarlett, manfully; and he went down and down more steps to stand at last on level stones, a narrow passage stretching out before him, while the stone walls and ceiling gleamed as if slightly damp.
"Hold the light up a little higher, Scar," whispered Fred.
Scarlett raised his left hand to the full length of his arm; there was a soft dab, and Fred uttered a subdued "Oh!" as his companion's right hand grasped his with spasmodic violence.
For Scarlett had pressed the candle up against the stone ceding, and the arched surface thoroughly performed the duty of extinguisher, leaving them in total darkness.
Half a minute must have passed, during which they were stunned by