ner, that had excited her curiosity.

"Where does this lead to, Sir Adrian?" she asks now, pointing to it.

"Oh, that is an old door connected with another passage that leads by
a dark and wearying staircase to the servants' corridor beneath! I am
afraid you won't be able to open it, as it is rusty with age and disuse.
The servants would as soon think of coming up here as they would of
making an appointment with the Evil One; so it has not been opened for
years."

"Perhaps I can manage it," says Arthur Dynecourt, trying with all his
might to force the ancient lock to yield to him. At length his efforts
are crowned with success; the door flies creakingly open, and a cloud of
dust uprising covers them like a mist.

"Ah!" exclaims Ethel, recoiling; but Arthur, stooping forward, carefully
examines the dark staircase that lies before him wrapped in impenetrable
gloom. Spider-nets have been drawn from wall to wall and hang in dusky
clouds from the low ceiling; a faint, stale, stifling smell greets his
nostrils, yet he lingers there and looks carefully around him.

"You'll fall into it, if you don't mind," remarks Captain Ringwood. "One
would think uncanny spots had an unwholesome attraction for you."

Ringwood, ever since the memorable night in the smoking-room, when Sir
Adrian was so near being killed, has looked askance at Arthur Dynecourt,
and, when taking the trouble to address him at all, has been either
sharp or pointed in his remarks. Arthur, contenting himself with a
scowl at him, closes the little door again, and turns away from it.

"At night," says Sir Adrian, in an amused tone, "the servants, passing
by the door below that leads up to this one, run by it as though they
fear some ghostly ancestors of mine, descending from the haunted
chamber, will pounce out upon them with their heads under their arms,
or in some equally unpleasant position. You know the door, don't you,
Arthur--the second from the turning?"

"No," replies Arthur, with his false smile, "I do not; nor, indeed,
do I care to know it. I firmly believe I should run past it too after
nightfall, unless well protected."

"That looks as if you had an evil conscience," says Ringwood carelessly,
but none the less purposely.

"It looks more as if I were a coward, I think," retorts Arthur,
laughing, but shooting an angry glance at the gallant captain as he
speaks.

"Well, what does the immortal William say?" returns Ringwood coolly.
"'Conscience do