"Not intentionally, perhaps; but leave him to me."

There was so much decision in the request--a request which almost sounded like an order, that Gertrude, hardly knowing why, gave way at once, and returned with Mrs Hampton to their room, while in company with the lawyer, George Harrington went back to the cellar door, just within which they could hear the dog snuffing, and every now and then uttering his uneasy whine, followed by a howl.

"What is it, my lad?" said George, with his mouth to the key-hole.

The effect was magical, for the dog seemed to raise himself up against the door, barking wildly, and then they could hear him scratching away the sawdust.

"Lie down, old chap! Lie down, Bruno!" cried George.

There was at this another sharp burst of barking, as if the dog was excitedly striving to get out.

"Shut that baize door, sir," said George; "and then we must get him out, and back to the stable. He'll worry the doctor's patient to death."

The key was brought forth, and George proceeded to open the door.

"Do you think there's any danger?" whispered the old lawyer.

"Not a bit."

"But he seems so savage."

"Not with me," said George, as he threw open the door. "Here, Bruno!"

he cried.

The dog bounced out, and for the moment it seemed to Mr Hampton that he was about to attack the young man, for he rose on his hind legs, and placed his paws breast-high, barking furiously.

"Come, come; what's the matter?" said George, seizing him with both hands by the collar. "Don't you like to be shut up there. Some folks would; eh, sir?"

"I don't think the brute is safe," said Mr Hampton. "Pray get him out."

"Yes, I'll take him to the stable. Now, Bruno, old chap. Will you lock that door, sir?"

George Harrington had to speak loudly, for the dog was keeping up his excited bark, and mingling it with whines; but the moment the old lawyer moved towards the door the animal dropped down on all fours, shook himself free, and dashed back into the wine-cellar.

"Come out, sir!" cried the lawyer. "I thought he didn't like the place?"

"Here--Bruno, Bruno!"

The dog responded with a sharp, angry bark, evidently from some distance.

"Oh, I see what it is; he can smell rats."

"But we can't have him making that noise in the middle of the night."

"Come out, sir!" cried George, entering the cellar and calling the dog, who came bounding towards him; but as an effort was made to seize his collar, he sprang round and dashed back.

"Give me the candle, Mr Hampton."

"No," said the old man; "you'll want both hands to him. I'll light you, or you'll think I'm a terrible coward. I'm not used to dogs."

He looked smilingly in his companion's face, and went to the front.

"I know the cellar better than you do, sir. Good heavens, dog?"

The lawyer and the light were both nearly upset, for as he moved forward Bruno literally rushed at him, but only to turn again and run back right into the depths of the cellar.

"Here, Bruno! Come here, sir!" cried George sternly. "We don't want to go ratting now."

But the dog paid no heed to the call, and went on barking furiously, while the next minute they reached the spot where he stood with his head outstretched, making the place echo.

"Come here, you old stupid!" said George good-humouredly; and, taking hold of the dog's collar with one hand, he patted his head with the other. "Now, then, we don't want to find rats. Come along."

The dog looked up in his face, whined, and then swung round and going to the blank patch of whitewashed wall, threw up his head and howled.

"Yes, it must be rats," said the old lawyer, "behind that bricked-up part. Try and drive him out."

George Harrington turned sharply on the lawyer.

"Bricked-up part?" he said.

"Yes, there's another cellar there through that arch, where old Mr Harrington laid down a quant.i.ty of wine for his grandson. Well, what is it? Yes; that's the place."

George had s.n.a.t.c.hed the candle, and gone to the wall to hold the light close to the whitewashed bricks.

As he did so the dog grew more uneasy and excited, looking from one to the other, and barking at the wall.

"Well?" said the old lawyer, as his companion turned sharply and looked him full in the eyes.

"You said you did not understand dogs, Mr Hampton?"

"No, not a bit; but I think we ought to get this noisy brute out of the house."

"I do understand them a little," said George excitedly. "Mr Hampton, there's something wrong here."

"What do you mean?"

"You say that is a bricked-up part of the cellar?"

"Yes; the old man did it for his heir."

"And it has never been opened since?"

"Of course not."

George looked at the brickwork again, scanning it very narrowly with the candle close to the wall.

"Yes, it has," he said, taking out his knife, and trying the mortar between the bricks, and then the other parts. "This mortar is comparatively soft."