“Yes, it’s a passage, sure enough,” said Scarlett, in an awe-stricken whisper, as by the light Fred held he could see that the sides and ceiling were of rough oak panelling, the floor being flagged with stone.
“Shall we go on?” whispered Fred.
“Yes. Why not? You’re not afraid, are you?”
“Yes, a little. It’s all so strange. Don’t you feel a little—”
“Yes, just a little; but there can’t be any thing to be afraid of. You must go first.”
Fred hesitated a few moments, and then went on for quite forty feet, when the narrow passage turned off at a right angle for about another twenty, when it again bent sharply round in the same direction as at first.
“This cannot be a chimney?” whispered Scarlett, for the darkness and heavy dusty air seemed to oppress them.
“No; they wouldn’t make a chimney of wainscotting. Oh!”
“What have you found?”
“Look here; a lot of stone steps.”