It was enough!
"Santa Madre!" came from the helmet, as the figure stumbled through the opening trap-stone.
There was a scream, which suddenly ended at highest pitch—a splash ... then silence.
Jarvis staggered back, with dilated eyes upon the fatal hole—he wiped the cold beads off his clammy brow, and staggered toward the table for support.
Rusty's head came out from the shelter of the stone coping—and he smiled an ashen imitation of amusement.
"Whar's yoh friend, Marse Warren?"
Jarvis' head was low upon his breast, as he answered quietly: "Water—and a long drop! There's a real ghost due to haunt castle now, Rusty."
"I knowed them battleship boogies was spooks!"
Warren picked up the great sword which had fallen by the trap as the man went through. He walked up the stairs.
"Oh, Marse Warren, don't!"