It was then that she became conscious of a dull, distant sound. She sat up in bed. She heard the sound no longer. But with her head once more resting upon the pillow, the sound came again.
It seemed to be a slow, muffled hammering, from the depths beneath her.
Thoroughly alarmed, Betty turned on the light again and listened intently. She arose from bed and leaned her head against the wall.
The sound was quite evident now. Solemnly, but regularly, the muffled strokes seemed to come upward to her ear. The girl was sure that the weird noise had its origin in the cellar of the old mansion.
At first she thought of flight; then her natural bravery allayed her fears.
Donning a dressing gown, Betty turned out the light and softly unlocked the door of her room. Once in the hall, she could hear nothing of the sounds from below. She descended the stairs cautiously.
Gripped by eagerness to fathom this mystery, her fears had vanished. Her footfalls were noiseless as she turned into the side hall downstairs and reached the door at the top of the cellar steps.
She tried the door. It was unlocked. That was unusual. She opened the door. A faint light was visible.
Now she heard the sound plainly; the stroke of a muffled weight against metal.
Betty hesitated on the top steps; then, with determination, she proceeded to the cellar.