great door opening on to the end of the shingled terrace.

Without the slightest hesitation, and behaving like one who was quite at
home, he entered the great oak-floored hall, and looked round--not at
the groups of weapons and suits of armour that were arranged as trophies
about the place, nor yet at the pictures and various interesting objects
hung between the stained-glass windows, on the oaken panels surrounded
by carving and surmounted by the heads and antlers of deer killed on the
adjacent moor.

Fred Forrester had eyes for none of these objects, as he looked here and
there, now in the low-ceilinged and carved-oak dining-room, then in the
drawing-room, and, lastly, in Sir Godfrey Markham's library--a gloomy,
tree-shaded room, where he thought it possible that his friend and
companion might be hiding. But all was still, and there was no one
behind the heavy curtains, nor inside the huge black oak cabinet beside
the great mullioned window.

"Wonder whether he's in the stables?" said Fred, half aloud, as he came
slowly out of the gloomy room and stood beneath the broad gallery which
crossed the end of the hall. "I know. He's with the dogs," said the
lad, taking a step from out of the shelter of the gallery, and then
staggering forward and nearly going down on hands and knees; for at that
moment a wool mattress, which had been poised ready on the gallery
balustrade, was dropped upon his head, and a peal of laughter echoed
from the panelled ceiling as Fred recovered himself, and rushed up the
broad staircase to attack his aggressor.

There was a good-tempered wrestling bout on the landing, and then the
two lads, Fred Forrester and Sir Godfrey Markham's son Scarlett, stood
panting and recovering their breath.

"And you are quite alone?" said Fred at last.

"Yes, all but the women; but I knew you'd come over, and I lay wait for
you, as soon as I saw you crossing the park."

"Well, what shall we do?"

"Let's fish."

"Come along, then. Got any bait?"

"No; but we'll make Nat dig us some worms. Let's go and get that
mattress first. It belongs to the spare-room."

No sooner said than done. The two boys ran down the broad oaken stairs,
leaping the last six, and, each seizing one corner of the mattress, they
trailed it up the stairs, along the gallery, and into a sombre-looking
room, after which Fred rushed to the top of the staircase, seated
himself astride the broad balustrade, and began to glide down, b