There was no way but through the crypt: she followed him without hesitation. They crept through the little closet under the stair, and were in the hall of the castle.
As they went softly up the stair, Donal had an idea.
“He is not back yet!” he said: “we will take the key from the oak door; he will think he has mislaid it, and will not find out that you are gone. I wonder what he will do!”
Cautiously listening to be sure the earl was not there, he ran to the oak door, locked it, and brought away the key. Then they went to the room Arctura had last occupied.
The door was ajar; there was a light in the room. They went softly, and peeped in. The earl was there, turning over the contents of her writing-desk.
“He will find nothing,” she whispered with a smile.
Donal led her away.
“We will go to your old room,” he said. “The whole recess is built up with stone and lime: he cannot come near you that way!”
She made no objection. Donal secured the doors, lighted a fire, and went to look for food. They had agreed upon a certain knock, without which she was to open to none.
While she was yet changing the garments in which she had lain on the terrible bed, she heard the earl go by, and the door of his room close. Apparently he had concluded to let her pass the night without another visit: he had himself had a bad fright, and had probably not got over it. A little longer and she heard Donal’s gentle signal at the door of the sitting-room. He had brought some biscuits and a little wine in the bottom of a decanter from the housekeeper’s room: there was literally nothing in the larder, he said.