"They're the same black things that scared you before, don't you remember?"

"Oh, I'm so skeered, boss, dat I can't remember nuthin' at all."

"Get up on your pins--they're nothing but old suits of armor, and you're liable to get some moonlight through you, Rusty, if there's another rear-end collision like that. You've been treading on my heels every step I take, and when I stop you b.u.mp into me."

"But Ma.r.s.e Warren," pleaded the frightened darky, "I'm powerful 'fraid I might lose you!"

"A fine chance," snorted Jarvis, looking about. "Well, Rusty, we've been through this old place pretty thoroughly, and not a sign of a soul--unless they pound or carry a smoky lantern. It's a clew, Rusty, it's a clew. We'll stick right here until we find out. This is the best room of the castle, and the ghost may prefer it."

Jarvis crossed to the fireplace again, and striking a match, held it into the opening. Its flicker indicated a good draught.

"There, Rusty," he said. "It's a good chance for a fire. The chimney's clear. Now break up that lopsided, rickety table there and make a fire.

You won't feel half so scared with a good blaze behind you."

He turned toward the half-flight of stairs, with a studious expression as he mentally measured the heights and thickness of the walls and ceiling.

"I'll scout around a bit, Rusty."

"Don't you do scoutin' outsiden dis room."

Rusty crossed to the fireplace, with the pieces of easily-smashed table legs, and began to light the fire.

"This was probably the banquet hall, Rusty."

"Yes, and say, Ma.r.s.e Warren, when we-all goin' ter eat?"

"When we get through with this job." He turned thoughtfully toward the big windows on the south of the room, and mused aloud: "That's the way through the two long rooms to the postern gate. Umm."

"That's where that black thing followed me."

"Yes, and a black thing followed me, walking on my heels every step I took. I couldn't see where I was stepping."

"That goes to the armory."

"I seen eyes in dere and a cold grimy, green smell in dere. Ain't dat where dat broad-faced bird flew at me, an' I slipped down de stairs?"

"Don't you know an owl, Rusty? That's all it was."

Jarvis was walking across the room to another door. Rusty was close behind him, following by habit now.

"I wonder if that door is...."

He did not finish the sentence! His foot had touched a swiveled rock, so delicately balanced that he had noiselessly fallen half through the large opening in the rock floor when Rusty caught him by the collar and under the arm.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Rusty caught him by the arm_]

"Here, I'm holding on now better, Rusty. Give me your hand." They both tugged, and he was soon safe, peering into the black opening together.

"That was a close call. Give me that lantern, Rusty!"

He dropped an old pewter cup, left on a side table, down the opening.

There was a delayed, faint splash.

"Lord!--water and a long drop. No wonder people disappear in this castle. Great Scott! What if her brother fell in there? Rusty, whatever happens, keep clear of this. Get me a burned stick, and I'll mark a cross on it, so we can tell--it makes me nervous to see that open mouth of death gaping for us. If you step on this you'll never see Kentucky again, for sure."

Rusty obeyed.

"Did you hear that groan, Ma.r.s.e Warren?"

"Groan--that's the wind!... There it is again--it does sound like a moan."

"Ough!" and Rusty's teeth chattered in perfect rhythm with his shaking knees. "Ough!"

"Shut up! Listen ... I guess it's the wind, at that. But this place is getting on our nerves all right."

Rusty controlled his teeth enough to talk now.

"Ma.r.s.e Warren, dat warn't no wind. Ah hope to die if dat warn't a sh.o.r.e 'nuff human groan." He turned and looked toward the big oil portrait of an ancient Spanish hidalgo over the fireplace. "An' I wants to tell you somepin else. Has you ever been in church or somew'ere an' all of a suddent a feelin' comes over you dat dere's someone's eyes a-starin' at de back of your haid ... you jest knowed it--until you couldn't stand it no longer, an' jest had to turn 'round an' see who it was?"

"Yes, Rusty, I've had that. Why?"

"Dat's jest de way I feel now. Like dem eyes in dat picture was a-lookin right through me. Like he'd like to step right outen de frame.

Or dem two boogie battleship men would like to jump right down on me,"

and he pointed toward the two suits of armor on the landing above.

"It's been a good many hundred years since those boys jumped. But listen--there's someone running as sure as you're alive, Rusty."

It was unmistakable. The steps came nearer and nearer, and then came a repet.i.tion of that dull thud in a distant room.

"I want to go home," moaned Rusty.

Jarvis had drawn his revolver again, and he was standing close to the stairs.

"Great Scott, Rusty! The man with the smoky lantern has been up these stairs. There are oil drippings, still fresh."

"You-all ain't going up, is you?" pleaded Rusty.

"Not at all. Because this Mr. Ghost or some of his spooky friends are probably waiting at the top of the stairs with a long gun, and I'm no book hero."

"Suppose it might be dat dere Mrs. Princess'es brother?"

"Well, he might blow my head off because he doesn't know what I came here for, and if it's someone else they'd blow it off because they do know why I'm here. There's somebody trying to scare us, Rusty. They're probably watching every move we make.... That's where that pounding comes from--why don't they shoot?... They're trying to scare us as they did the poor b.o.o.bs down in the village."

Rusty crossed toward the fireplace. He picked up an old mallet and chisel from the mantel, which was brighter now from the fire. He cried out in surprise:

"Look yere, Ma.r.s.e Warren. Look yere!"

He handed the tools over to the astounded Jarvis. "I found 'em on dat mantelpiece!"