e bottom she stood still and listened. From high
above her came noises which sounded like the rumbling of distant
thunder, but which, on analysis, proved to be the rattling of
window-frames. Reassured that she had no cause for alarm, Lady Adela
advanced. Something black scudded across the red-tiled floor, and she
made a dash at it with her poker. The concussion awoke countless
echoes in the cellars, and called into existence legions of other
black things that darted hither and thither in all directions. She
burst out laughing--they were only beetles! Facing her she now
perceived an inner cellar, which was far gloomier than the one in
which she stood. The ceiling was very low, and appeared to be crushed
down beneath the burden of a stupendous weight; and as she advanced
beneath it she half expected that it would "cave in" and bury her.

A few feet from the centre of this cellar she stopped; and, bending
down, examined the floor carefully. The tiles were unmistakably newer
here than elsewhere, and presented the appearance of having been put
in at no very distant date. The dampness of the atmosphere was
intense; a fact which struck Lady Adela as somewhat odd, since the
floor and walls looked singularly dry. To find out if this were the
case, she ran her fingers over the walls, and, on removing them, found
they showed no signs of moisture. Then she rapped the floor and walls,
and could discover no indications of hollowness. She sniffed the air,
and a great wave of something sweet and sickly half choked her. She
drew out her handkerchief and beat the air vigorously with it; but the
smell remained, and she could not in any way account for it. She
turned to leave the cellar, and the flame of her candle burned blue.
Then for the first time that evening--almost, indeed, for the first
time in her life--she felt afraid, so afraid that she made no attempt
to diagnose her fear; she understood the dogs' feelings now, and
caught herself wondering how much they knew.

She whistled to them again, not because she thought they would
respond,--she knew only too well they would not,--but because she
wanted company, even the company of her own voice; and she had some
faint hope, too, that whatever might be with her in the cellar, would
not so readily disclose itself if she made a noise. The one cellar was
passed, and she was nearly across the floor of the other when she
heard a crash. The candle dropped from her hand, and all the blood in