“Yes! Yes! Let us go in!” A sharp flash of lightning had set the little French girl’s nerves all a-quiver.
“Come on then.” There was a suggestion of mystery in Florence’s tone. “We will feel our way back to that place you saw.”
The gate swung open a crack. They crept inside. The door swung to. The chain rattled. Then once more they moved forward in the dark.
After a time, by the aid of a vivid flash, they made out a tall, narrow structure just before them. A sudden dash, and they were inside.
“We—we’re here,” Florence panted, “but where are we?”
“Oo—o! How dark!” Petite Jeanne pressed close to her companion’s side. “I am sure there are no windows.”
“The windows are above,” whispered Florence. A flash of lightning had revealed an opening far above her head.
At the same instant she stumbled against a hard object.
“It’s a stairway,” she announced after a brief inspection. “A curious sort of stairway, too. The steps are shaped like triangles.”
“That means it is a spiral stairway.”