y wriggled in.

"It is rather dusty, isn't it?" Rosalind peeped in at the cobwebs
doubtfully, but the thought of the imprisoned maiden overcame her dislike
to dust. "Her name is Patricia," she paused on the sill to say.

"And we are going to release her and restore her ring, which a wicked
magician has turned into lead," added Belle, with sudden inspiration.

"Why, Belle, I never thought of that. Perhaps it is the reason nobody can
find it," laughed Rosalind, taking one step on the ledge and giving a
little shriek of dismay.

"You won't fall. Give me your hand," commanded Jack, with masculine
confidence.

The damp gloom of the cellar was rather frightful after the bright
sunshine outside. No wonder Katherine crowded close to Belle and their
voices sank to awed whispers. It was a relief to step out into the hall
above, where the fanlight over the door made it seem less grewsome. The
dust lay thick on the Chippendale table and chairs, and from its corner
the tall clock looked down on them solemn and voiceless. There was no
denying that it was scary, as Belle expressed it. What light there was
seemed unreal, and the closed rooms when they peeped in were cheerless and
ghostly.

They stole about on tiptoe, keeping close together and talking in low
tones. The library, where old Mr. Gilpin had been found unconscious and
where the ring had last been seen, was the most ghostly of all. Belle
paused on the threshold.

"Let's go upstairs," she suggested. As she spoke she saw on the floor at
her feet a ring of some dull metal, such as is used on light curtain-rods,
but under the circumstances there was something a little startling in its
being there.

Jack seized it, "Here is Patricia's ring!" he cried.

"Oh, Jack, hush!" whispered Belle, as his voice woke a hundred lonely
echoes.

"I'll tell you; let's take it to the magician--our magician--and ask him
to break the spell," said Rosalind.

"Oh, I wish you wouldn't talk so," entreated Katherine. "It makes me feel
as if it were true."

It was plain that nobody wished to be last on the way upstairs, nor was
the post of leader very ardently desired, so they settled it by crowding
up four abreast. In the rooms above they breathed more freely, and grew
bolder as they wandered about, recognizing things Celia had described.

"Do come here," called Belle, from a small room, hardly more than a
closet, which opened from one of the bed chambers, "and see this funny
picture."