"Ah, if he only could!"
She crept to the bedroom door. "Is this the room?"
"Yes. I wouldn't go in, Gracie."
"Why not? He's dead and buried; and if his ghost is there it can't do me any harm."
Her black eyes travelled over the walls and ceiling and floor, as though in search of a clue to her father's fate. She evinced a disposition to linger there, but Dick pulled her back into the office.
"Now, Gracie, how did you get into the house?"
"I'll show you. Come downstairs."
Taking the candle with them they descended to the lower part of the premises. There were three small rooms in the basement, in addition to the kitchen, all in a state of ruin. He was filled with wonder when Gracie informed him that there was a cellar underneath the kitchen, for neither he nor the officials who had searched the place knew anything of it.
"Pull up the trap door, Dick. There it is, under that old chair."
The wonder still upon him he removed the chair, and, kneeling, lifted the trap door, beneath which was a short fixed ladder.