"O, well, you may be right," said David. "Of course it's impossible to tell."
"O, but I'm sure of it," said Clive, positively.
David laughed.
"O, then," said he, "in that case, I've got nothing to say about it at all."
In spite of his reiterated conviction in the baronial castle, Clive was unable to prevent an expression of disgust from being discernible on his fine face, and without another word, he turned to go down.
David followed close after him.
As Clive put his feet down on the nearest rung of the ladder, he was startled by a noise below. It came from the pile of fagots, and was of the most extraordinary character. It was a shuffling, scraping, growling, snapping noise; an indescribable medley of peculiar sounds.
Clive instantly drew back his foot, as though he had trodden on a snake.
"What's the matter?" cried David, in amazement.
"Didn't you hear it?"