“Then it’s settled, boys,” said Charles eagerly. “And whatever happens, we four will stick by each other, and hold on to our plot.”
“Yes,” commented the sage, bringing his learning into requisition, “we four are a cabal, a faction, a junto, a party of intriguers, a band of—”
“—Of good-for-nothing school-boys,” Charles said quickly, not wishing to be ranked as a greater personage than he was.
In due time the house was reached. It was a forlorn-looking building, truly, and in a solitary place; but it was hardly so dilapidated as Charles supposed. It was now old, uncared for, and weather beaten; but when new, had been a handsome and pleasant house, suitable for a small family. It was a story and a half in height, with four or five rooms on the first floor and as many on the second. If built in a less dreary, locality, it probably would never have been without a tenant. But the man who built this wayside dwelling must have had more means than brains.
Even the rough boys of the village shunned this place; consequently, after all these years, there was still here and there a whole pane of glass in almost every window-sash. As for the doors, the best of them had been taken away, and the two or three that remained, were, as may be supposed, worthless and useless.
The floor of the first story was still sound. Up the creaking stairs the plotters went recklessly, and found a state of even greater desolation than below. The rooms here had never been particularly elegant, and now they were filthy and horrible with accumulated dust, mould, and rubbish. The roof was full of holes, through which the water evidently streamed whenever it stormed. The roof was originally set off with two picturesque chimneys; but inexorable Time had already demolished one, and was playing havoc with the other.
Next they went to explore the cellar; but the earth had caved in and partially filled it up, and it was so dark and loathsome that even the hero Stephen hesitated to descend. Then, as the front door had been taken away and the entrance secured with boards, they crawled through a window, and once more gained the pure air.
All things considered, even a pirate would have shrunk from passing a night in this house. But a peaceable, home-keeping ghost, in search of a summer residence, could not have found a more suitable one than this. The parlor would have served him admirably for a bed-room, while the dining room could have been fitted up for a laboratory; and in case any chance comers should intrude on him, he could have buried himself in the cellar, where he would have been perfectly safe.
In fact, this was an excellent building for a ghost’s headquarters; but it would require unlimited faith in romance to believe it a likely place for a prison-house.