a secret place, no one could ever come up
to mend it."

"I wonder where my leg went to?" said Lindsay.

"Perhaps into some room below."

"In that case Mrs. Wilson will notice a hole in the ceiling, and will
know somebody has been up here."

It was not an encouraging incident, but they were determined to venture
farther all the same.

"We couldn't think of turning back now," said Lindsay.

At the far end of the room there was a door that seemed to lead into an
attic even darker than the first.

"It's not much use going in there without a light," said Cicely.

"Just a few steps," said Lindsay.

She entered, and put up her hand to feel the height of the roof above.
Instantly there was a tremendous rushing sound around them. The air
seemed filled with flapping, shadowy forms, which brushed lightly
against their cheeks. In an agony of fear poor Cicely shrieked and
shrieked again, and clung to Lindsay desperately, as to the one
substantial and human thing in the midst of what was horrible and
unknown.

"All right, they're only bats," gasped Lindsay, in a rather quavering
voice. "We've disturbed them, I expect."

Slightly reassured, Cicely dared to raise her head from her friend's
shoulder and look round. They were surrounded by the fluttering wings
of the bats. These little denizens of the darkness must have been
hanging in numbers from the ceiling, and Lindsay's entrance had
disturbed them. With strange squeaks and hisses they flitted to and fro
for a few moments, then flew off to seek some safer retreat.

"I hope they've really gone," said Cicely, heaving a sigh of relief.
"Don't go any farther in there, Lindsay. You can't see an inch before
your face."

"But it may be the one important place," said Lindsay, yielding
reluctantly as Cicely pulled her back into the outer garret. "I'd
exchange all my next birthday presents for a candle."

"Hush! I want to listen. I thought I heard something."

"What?"

"A kind of rustling."

"I expect it was the bats, or a rat."

Cicely gave an apprehensive glance behind. Her nerves were not so strong
as Lindsay's. Though she had had time to grow accustomed to scratchings
inside the wainscots at the Manor, she could not overcome her dread of
rats. Perhaps Lindsay was less valiant in her heart of hearts than she
would have liked to confess. After all, it was little satisfaction to
explore a room where she could see nothing.

She was just deciding to go, when Cicely onc