He led the way along the terrace towards the ruins, and Sir John followed him almost as if he expected to see movement in the motionless shadows about him. The prospect of finding this hidden wealth, and all it would mean to him, shut out every other thought. The legend of buried treasure at the Abbey was not a new one. The monks who had lived in it had grown wealthy—why should they not have left their wealth behind them? Martin was mad, but in his madness he had strange visions; Sir John was satisfied that he had had many proofs of this, and he followed him now, never doubting that the treasure existed and would be found.
They came to the opening of the Nun's Room.
"The creepers in this corner are a natural ladder, Sir John."
"But we cannot go down into it, Martin."
"How else shall we get the riches?"
"Those who enter the Nun's Room die within the year," said Sir John, trembling.
"A tale made to keep the curious from looking for the treasure," Martin answered. "I have gone down many times, but I searched in vain, not having the key to the secret. To-night I have it. I will go first," and, kneeling down, he grasped the creepers, which grew strongly here, and lowered himself quickly.
Sir John was not so agile, but he went down after him. He would have accomplished a far more difficult feat rather than remain behind.
"I wonder whether Mistress Barbara will make that promise?" said Martin, as Sir John came to the floor beside him.
"I wonder."