'I can see nothing,' he said. 'I fancied he said the word "mouse," but his voice had got so faint.'
'If you knock on the floor,' I began, but Miss Lally stopped me by darting into the closet.
'Papa,' she said, 'hold the light here. I know where the mouse-hole is.'
What they had thought a mouse-hole was really a hole with jagged edges cut out in one of the boards, which you could thrust your hand into. Sir Hulbert did so, beginning to see what it was meant for, and pulled. A trap-door, cleverly made, for all that it looked so roughly done, gave way, and by the light of the lamp we saw a kind of ladder leading downwards into the dark. Sir Hulbert stooped down and leaned over the edge.
'Francis,' he called, and a very faint voice—we couldn't have heard it till the door was opened—answered—
'Yes, I'm here. Take care, the ladder's broken.'
Luckily there was another ladder in the attic. Sir Hulbert and I dragged it out, and managed to slip it down the hole, in the same direction as the other. We were so afraid it would be too short, but it wasn't. My lady and I held it steady at the top, while Sir Hulbert went down with the lamp, Miss Lally holding a candle beside us.
Sir Hulbert went down very slowly, not knowing how or in what state Master Francis might be lying at the foot. Our hearts were beating like hammers, for all we were so quiet.
First we heard an exclamation of surprise. I rather think it was 'by Jove!' though Sir Hulbert was a most particular gentleman in his way of speaking—then came a hearty shout—
'All right, he's here, no bones broken.'