“Plenty of time before morning, sir,” replied Ben, coolly; and after relocking the heavy low door, he tried the key he had just withdrawn upon the next door, and, to the surprise of both, it yielded easily, and was thrown open.
Again the same clean, swept-out place, with plenty of grey cobwebs; but that was all.
Upon sounding the stones, however, at the back, they fancied that they detected a suggestion of hollowness, still not enough to make Roy determine to have the wall torn down.
This place was locked and the next tried, the only satisfactory part of the business being that the key before used evidently opened all the locks in the basement of this tower; and so it proved, as one after the other the dungeons or cellars were tried with the same unsatisfactory results, for none of the eight afforded the slightest trace of the clew they sought.
At last, pretty well tired out and covered with cobwebs, they stood in the crypt while Ben lit a fresh candle, the first having burned down into the socket, with the wick swimming in molten fat, and Roy said, with a yawn—
“I wonder whether there is a passage after all, or whether it is some old woman’s tale.”
“Nay, sir, there is,” said the old soldier, solemnly. “Your father said there was, and he must have known.”
“Well, then, where is the door?” said Roy, peevishly.
“Ah! that’s what we’ve got to find out, sir. You’re tired now, and no wonder. So let’s try another night. You’re not going to give a thing up because you didn’t do it the first time.”
“I hope not,” said Roy, with another yawn; “but I am a bit tired now. I say, Ben, though, think it’s in one of the places we’ve filled up with stores?”