, thinking what he could do
to prevent him from locking them in. He came on and on, until curdie
feared he would pass the recess and see them. He was just preparing to
rush out, and master him before he should give alarm, not in the least
knowing what he should do next, when, to his relief, the man stopped at
the third cask from where he stood. He set down his light on the top
of it, removed what seemed a large vent-peg, and poured into the cask a
quantity of something from the flagon. Then he turned to the next
cask, drew some wine, rinsed the flagon, threw the wine away, drew and
rinsed and threw away again, then drew and drank, draining to the
bottom. Last of all, he filled the flagon from the cask he had first
visited, replaced then the vent-peg, took up his candle, and turned
toward the door.

'There is something wrong here!' thought Curdie.

'Speak to him, Lina,' he whispered.

The sudden howl she gave made Curdie himself start and tremble for a
moment. As to the man, he answered Lina's with another horrible howl,
forced from him by the convulsive shudder of every muscle of his body,
then reeled gasping to and fro, and dropped his candle. But just as
Curdie expected to see him fall dead he recovered himself, and flew to
the door, through which he darted, leaving it open behind him. The
moment he ran, Curdie stepped out, picked up the candle still alight,
sped after him to the door, drew out the key, and then returned to the
stair and waited. In a few minutes he heard the sound of many feet and
voices. Instantly he turned the tap of the cask from which the man had
been drinking, set the candle beside it on the floor, went down the
steps and out of the little door, followed by Lina, and closed it
behind them.

Through the hole in it he could see a little, and hear all. He could
see how the light of many candles filled the place, and could hear how
some two dozen feet ran hither and thither through the echoing cellar;
he could hear the clash of iron, probably spits and pokers, now and
then; and at last heard how, finding nothing remarkable except the best
wine running to waste, they all turned on the butler and accused him of
having fooled them with a drunken dream. He did his best to defend
himself, appealing to the evidence of their own senses that he was as
sober as they were. They replied that a fright was no less a fright
that the cause was imaginary, and a dream no less a dream that the
fright h