To explore the rat-haunted cabins of this old hulk in search of "Nip," was by no means an errand to Mr. Lisle's taste; he would infinitely have preferred to remain sketching on the bulwarks, and conversing with Helen Denis. However, of course he had no alternative. Go he must! Somewhat to his surprise, the young lady said,—
"I shall go too; the ports are open, there will be plenty of light, and I want to investigate the cabins downstairs."
"You had much better not, mind! you will only dirty your dress," urged Mrs. Creery dissuasively, but Helen's slim white figure had already vanished down the companion-ladder, in the wake of Mr. Lisle.
At first it was as dark as Erebus—after coming out of the glare above—but as their eyes became accustomed to the gloom, there was sufficient light from the open stern windows to show that they were standing in a long narrow saloon, with numerous cabins at either side.
"It looks quite like the steamer I came out in!" exclaimed the young lady. (Anything but a compliment to a first-class P. and O.) "That is to say, the length and shape. There are tables, too!" (These had not been worth removing, and were fastened to the floor.)
"It was used as a prison long ago, I believe," said Mr. Lisle.
"Yes, and——"
Helen was about to add that murder had been done there, but something froze the sentence on her lips; it seemed scarcely the time and place to speak of that.
"Nip, Nip, Nip!" cried his infatuated mistress, who had cautiously descended to the foot of the stairs, holding her petticoats tightly swathed round her. "Where are you, you naughty dog? Ah!" shrieking, and skipping surprisingly high, "I'm sure that was a rat!"
"Not at all unlikely," rejoined Mr. Lisle, rattling noisily along the wainscot with a bit of stick, whilst Mrs. Creery hurriedly withdrew up half-a-dozen steps, where she remained plaintively calling "Nip, Nip, Nip!"