"Come down; do, Jane," begged Judith, shivering in actual fear.
"Wait a few minutes," insisted Jane. "Whatever it is they know we are here!"
"Jane!" breathed the other, "I am honestly ready—to faint."
"Nonsense, just a few minutes." Jane could feel her companion tremble as she clung to her arm.
But not a sound nor a move rewarded their brave defiance.
"If only this place had a light," Jane whispered. "I suppose there is a bulb somewhere." She remembered that the fireman found none, however, and tonight even the patch of moonlight was not there. It really would have been foolhardy to attempt to go further into the low-beamed room, at the risk of running into attack, and evidently the noise had not been heavy enough to arouse anyone else in the Hall, for no sound of moving about came from the lower floors.
"Do come down," begged Judith again, taking two steps herself on the stairs.
"No, I shan't," insisted Jane. "I can wait as long as they can."
As if that gave a cue for action a rope—surely it was a rope— creaked and groaned and the rumbling heard first sounded again— somewhere, it seemed from the very roof.
"There!" said Jane. "They're gone and they went by that rope. Come on down. We can't do anything in this darkness," and, now satisfied that the "ghost" had been scared off, she followed Judith's precipitous escape down, and into the lower hallway.