“What now—directly?”
“Yes; you’re not afraid, are you?”
“No,” cried Fred, starting up. “Get two candles this time, and we’ll take one apiece.”
The lights were obtained, the door at the end of the passage bolted, and once more the two boys stood at the top of the staircase.
“Think we had better go now?” said Fred.
“Yes; we may not have such a chance again for ever so long. Do you feel afraid?”
“Not exactly afraid; only as if I didn’t want to go. I’m not so brave as you are, Scar.”
This last was said with a bit of a sneer, which made the boy wince, and then draw himself up proudly.
“I’m not brave,” he said, “for I feel as if I’d give anything not to go; but it seems to me as if it would be very cowardly to give up, and I mean to go.”
He seized the balustrade as he spoke, gave it a wrench, the stair shot from its fastening, was pushed back, and without another word Scarlett thrust in his lighted candle, followed it, and Fred stood looking in as his companion gradually disappeared.