"Steps," she cried, "going up into that part of the building where—where—"
"Will you attempt them with me? Or will you stay here, in the darkness?"
"I—will—stay—here."
It was said with shortened breath; but she seemed less frightened than when we started to cross the cellar. At all events a fine look of daring had displaced the tremulous aspect which had so changed the character of her countenance a few minutes before.
"I will make short work of it," I assured her as I hastily ran up the steps. "Drop your face into your hands and you will not be conscious of the darkness. Besides, I will talk to you all the time. There! I have worked my way up through the hole. I have placed my lantern on the floor above and I see—What! are you coming?"
"Yes, I am coming."
Indeed, she was close beside me, maintaining her footing on the toppling boxes by a grip on my disengaged arm.
"Can you see?" I asked. "Wait! let me pull you up; we might as well stand on the floor as on these boxes."
Climbing into the room above, I offered her my hand, and in another moment we stood together in the noisome precincts of that abominable spot, with whose doleful story she had just made me acquainted.
A square of impenetrable gloom confronted me at the first glance—what might not be the result of a second?