They slipped out of the room, attracting no attention, and, flashing the beams of their electric torches ahead of them, walked softly up the broad stairs. It was cold and gloomy away from the gay Christmas room, but they did not mind. The spirit of the quest was upon them.
They walked the length of the long upper halls. In a far corner of the second one, where the work of demolition had not started, half hidden by old boards and trash, stood a cedar chest.
“Perhaps,” said Dorothy with a nervous little laugh, “the ghost lies in there. If it were a closet we might look for the skeleton. But let’s have a look, anyhow.”
Harry raised the lid, which was covered with dust and white plaster dust. Dorothy flashed her light within. Then she uttered a suppressed scream. For the first glance seemed to show in the chest the body of a woman clad in a red cloak resting beside the form of a Continental soldier with high black boots.
“The ghosts!” murmured Dorothy.
“No, only their garments!” said Harry, laughing. “But I think, Dot, that at last we are on the trail of the mystery!”
CHAPTER XXVII
Frightened Screams
Harry tilted the lid of the chest back against the wall, and with both hands now free was thus able to flash the beams of his torch into the box, which was what Dorothy also was doing. The double illumination revealed other garments in the long narrow box. Henry lifted out the old Continental soldier uniform—coat, trousers, a hat, and the heavy boots.
“They have been worn recently,” he said. “Not much dust on them.”
“And the cloak?” asked Dorothy in a tense voice.