"It gives me the shivers, it's so wretched," said Gwethyn. "I certainly shouldn't like to live here. I think we've been nearly all round. Shall we go downstairs again? Wait! There's just this one passage that leads somewhere."
"Haven't you seen enough?"
"My curiosity is insatiable."
Katrine hesitated. One room was exactly like another. It did not seem worth while to explore further. She half turned in the direction of the stairs; then noticing that the passage was panelled, and thinking that the room at the end might therefore be older and quainter than the rest, she changed her mind. After all, it was disappointing, as bare and empty as the others, with torn paper hanging in strips from the damp walls.
"There's a fine view of the dovecot though," said Katrine. "I can see the carving on the gable beautifully from here."
She flung the window open wide. The fresh wholesome outside air came rushing in. The draught banged the door, and a sound of something falling followed, but the girls were too occupied to take any notice. They were leaning out of the window trying to decipher the date on the worn piece of carving.
"It looks like 1600," opined Gwethyn.
"More likely 1690. The tail of the nine is cracked away. It's older than the house at any rate. I wish I had my sketch-book here, and I'd have copied it. Have you a note-book in your pocket?"
"No; and I shouldn't lend it to you if I had. We must be going at once, or we shall be late for prep."
Katrine consulted her watch, and turned to the door. Then she gave a cry of consternation. It was impossible to open it. The knob had been loose, and when the door banged the whole handle had fallen out into the passage. They were shut in as securely as if by bolt and bar. Here was a dilemma, indeed! They looked at one another in consternation.