There were in this house, what certainly did not exist at Knowl, and what I have never observed, though they may possibly be found in other old houses—I mean, here and there, very high hatches, which we could only peep over by jumping in the air. They crossed the long corridors and great galleries; and several of them were turned across and locked, so as to intercept the passage, and interrupt our explorations.
Milly, however, knew a queer little, very steep and dark back stair, which reached the upper floor; so she and I mounted, and made a long ramble through rooms much lower and ruder in finish than the lordly chambers we had left below. These commanded various views of the beautiful though neglected grounds; but on crossing a gallery we entered suddenly a chamber, which looked into a small and dismal quadrangle, formed by the inner walls of this great house, and of course designed only by the architect to afford the needful light and air to portions of the structure.
I rubbed the window-pane with my handkerchief and looked out. The surrounding roof was steep and high. The walls looked soiled and dark. The windows lined with dust and dirt, and the window-stones were in places tufted with moss, and grass, and groundsel. An arched doorway had opened from the house into this darkened square, but it was soiled and dusty; and the damp weeds that overgrew the quadrangle drooped undisturbed against it. It was plain that human footsteps tracked it little, and I gazed into that blind and sinister area with a strange thrill and sinking.
'This is the second floor—there is the enclosed court-yard'—I, as it were, soliloquised.
'What are you afraid of, Maud? you look as ye'd seen a ghost,' exclaimed Milly, who came to the window and peeped over my shoulder.
'It reminded me suddenly, Milly, of that frightful business.'
'What business, Maud?—what a plague are ye thinking on?' demanded Milly, rather amused.
'It was in one of these rooms—maybe this—yes, it certainly was this—for see, the panelling has been pulled off the wall—that Mr. Charke killed himself.'
I was staring ruefully round the dim chamber, in whose corners the shadows of night were already gathering.
'Charke!—what about him?—who's Charke?' asked Milly.