Part 98 (1/2)

”Bah!” cried the doctor. ”There, go and get your stable lanthorn and we'll see. Helen, my dear, we've got a ghost in the old stable loft: like to come and see it!”

”Very much, papa,” said Helen, smiling in a way that put Peter on his mettle, for the moment before he had been ready to beg off.

He went pretty quickly to get his stable lanthorn, and came back with it alight, and looking very pale and sickly, while he bore a stout broomstick in the other hand.

”For shame, man! Put away that absurd thing,” said the doctor, as he led the way through the gate in the wall, followed by Helen, Peter and Dan'l coming behind.

”Go first with the lanthorn,” said the doctor to the old gardener, but Peter was stirred to action now.

”Mayn't I go first, sir!” he said.

”Oh yes, if you have enough courage,” said the doctor; and Peter, looking very white, led the way to the foot of the ladder, went up, and the others followed him to the loft, and stood together on the old worm-eaten boards.

The lanthorn cast a yellow glow through its horn sides, and this, mingling with the faint pencils of daylight which came between the tiles, gave a very peculiar look to the place, festooned as the blackened beams were with cobwebs, which formed loops and pockets here and there.

”There's an old door at the extreme end there, or ought to be,” said the doctor. ”Go and open it.”

Peter went on in advance.

”Mind the holes, my dear,” said the doctor. ”What's that?”

A curious rustling noise was heard, and, active as a young man, Dan'l ran back to the top of the ladder and descended quickly.

”Well 'tain't me as is skeart now,” said Peter triumphantly.

Just then there was a sharp clap from somewhere in front, as if a small trap-door had been suddenly closed, and Dan'l's voice came up through the boards.

”Look out!” he shouted, and his voice sounded distant. ”There's some one up in the far loft there. He tried to get down into one of the hay-racks, but I frightened him back.”

”Stop there!” said the doctor. ”We'll soon see who it is. Go on, Peter, and open that door. That young larder thief for a guinea, my dear,” he continued to Helen, as Peter went on in advance.

”Door's nailed up, sir,” said the latter worthy, as he reached the old door, and held the lanthorn up and down.

”How came it nailed up?” said the doctor, as he examined the place. ”It has no business to be. Go and get an iron chisel or a crowbar. Are you there, Daniel?”

”Yes, sir,” came from below. ”I'm on the look-out. It's that there young poacher chap, Bob Dimsted.”

Peter set the lanthorn on the floor and hurried off, leaving the little party watching and listening till he returned, but not a sound broke the silence, and there was nothing to see but the old worm-eaten wood and blackened tiles.

”I've brought both, sir,” said Peter breathlessly, and all eagerness now, for he was ashamed of his fright.

”Wrench it open, then,” said the doctor; and after a few sharp cracks the rotten old door gave way, and swung upon its rusty hinges, when a strange sight met the eyes of those who pressed forward into the further loft.

CHAPTER FORTY FIVE.

A STARTLING DISCOVERY.

The rough loft had been turned into a kind of dwelling-place, for there was a bed close under the tiles, composed of hay, upon which, neatly spread, were a couple of blankets. On the other side were a plate, a knife, a piece of bread, and a jam-pot, while in the centre were some rough boxes and an old cage, on the top of which sat the ragged squirrel.