"Papa," said Elsie, "it's a dreadful place, and very, very old, isn't it?"
"Yes," he answered; "it was probably begun in 1565. About how long ago was that?"
"More than three hundred years," she returned after a moment's thought. "Oh, that is a long, long while!"
"Yes," he said, "a very long while, and we may be very thankful that our lives were given us in this time rather than in that; for it was a time of ignorance and persecution."
"Yes, yes, ignorance and persecution;" the words came in sepulchral tones from the depths of the nearest dungeon, "here have I lain for three hundred years with none to pity or help. Oh, 'tis a weary while! Shall I never, never escape?"
"Oh, papa," cried Elsie in tones of affright, and clinging to his hand, "how dreadful! Can't we help him out?"
"I don't think there is anyone in there, daughter," the captain said in reassuring tones, her Uncle Harold adding, with a slight laugh, "And if there is he must surely be pretty well used to it by this time."
All their little company had been startled at first and felt a thrill of horror at thought of such misery, but now they all laughed and turned to Cousin Ronald, as if saying surely it was his doing.
"Yes," he said, "the voice was mine; and thankful we may be that those poor victims of such hellish cruelty have long, long since been released from their pain."
"Oh, I am glad to know that," exclaimed Elsie with a sigh of relief; "but please let's go away from here, for I think it's a dreadful place."