“But it’s in the cellar, Ben, and you’d want a light.”
“Hardly fair, sir, to call it the cellar. I believe it’s one of the old dungeons where they used to shut people up in the good old times.”
“That would be darker still, Ben. How are we to see?”
“Have to feel, sir; for I don’t fancy taking down a lantern. Once we get there and the place open, we can go round and tell with our hands how many kegs there are on the shelves, and then if we bring one out and try it, and it turns out all right, we shall know we’re safe.”
“Very well: it isn’t a nice job; but, if it has to be done, we’d better get it over.”
“As you say, sir, it aren’t a nice job; but, if we’re very careful, I don’t see as we can come to much harm; so, if you’ll get the keys, sir, we’ll go at once.”
Roy nodded, and went in without a word, to find his mother seated in the library writing.
“What is it, my boy?” she said. “What do you want?”
Roy hesitated for a moment, and then said, rather huskily, “The keys. Ben and I are going down into the magazine.”
Lady Royland looked at him in a wondering way.