re the fact that he is thoroughly unwelcome to
his companion; Florence, with head erect and haughty footsteps and eyes
carefully averted.

Past the hall, through the corridor, up the staircase, through the
galleries, along more corridors they go, laughing and talking eagerly,
until they come at last to an old and apparently much disused part of
the house.

Traversing more corridors, upon which dust lies thickly, they come at
last to a small iron-bound door that blocks the end of one passage.

"Now we really begin to get near to it," says Sir Adrian encouragingly,
turning, as he always does, when opportunity offers, to address himself
solely to Florence.

"Don't you feel creepy-creepy?" asks Ethel Villiers, with a smothered
laugh, looking up at Captain Ringwood.

Then Sir Adrian pushes open the door, revealing a steep flight of stone
steps that leads upward to another door above. This door, like the lower
one, is bound with iron.

"This is the tower," explains Sir Adrian, still acting as cicerone
to the small party, who look with interest around them. Mrs. Talbot,
affecting nervousness, clings closely to Sir Adrian's arm. Indeed she is
debating in her own mind whether it would be effective or otherwise to
subside into a graceful swoon within his arms. "Yonder is the door of
the chamber," continues Sir Adrian. "Come, let us go up to it."

They all ascend the last flight of stone stairs; and presently their
host opens the door, and reveals to them whatever mysteries may lie
beyond. He enters first, and they all follow him, but, as if suddenly
recollecting some important point, he turns, and calls loudly to Captain
Ringwood not to let the door shut behind him.

"There is a peculiar spring in the lock," he explains a moment later;
"and, if the door slammed to, we should find it impossible to open it
from the inside, and might remain here prisoners forever unless the
household came to the rescue."

"Oh, Captain Ringwood, pray be careful!" cries Dora falteringly. "Our
very lives depend upon your attention!"

"Miss Villiers, do come here and help me to remember my duty," says
Captain Ringwood, planting his back against the open door lest by any
means it should shut.

The chamber is round, and has, instead of windows, three narrow
apertures in the walls, through which can be obtained a glimpse of the
sky, but of nothing else. These apertures are just large enough to admit
a man's hand. The room is without furniture