“No; follow closely, and don’t talk now.”
“Only this one word, sir,” whispered Samson, holding tightly by his master’s arm. “When we get ’em safe off, and my brother Nat starts boasting, mind, sir, it was to help Sir Godfrey and Master Scar I came—not him.”
“Silence!”
“How like his father he do grow!” muttered Samson; and he obeyed.
Fred wondered to himself that he felt no shrinking at the strange task, before creeping step by step into the utter darkness of this place; but he was strung up now, and determined to carry his task through, come what might.
Never before had the way seemed so long ere he struck his foot against the first short flight of steps; and then, as he reached the top unchallenged, a horrible sense of dread assailed him, for all was as silent as it was dark, and he asked himself what had happened to his friends.
He stood listening, but could hear nothing; and at last he gripped Samson by the shoulder, and whispered—
“What does it mean? Have they gone?”
“That’s what I was asking myself, sir. Speak—or shall I? Anybody here?” he said aloud.
There was a whispering echo, nothing more, and Fred felt the cold perspiration ooze from his brow, as he tried to imagine what could have happened since they were there last.