Chase was already on the way. His two companions followed him, and as the three descended the stone steps every sound of voice or movement was weirdly increased in volume by the confining walls.
Don Hale's thoughts were still on the noise which had reached his ears. It vaguely conveyed to his mind an impression that others besides themselves were in the ancient château—an unpleasant reflection, conjuring up visions of unseen eyes watching them from the gloomy shadows.
By this time the somberness and depressing air which everywhere lurked within the walls of the Château de Morancourt had affected all three alike—each was longing to get out in the open air.
Therefore, after stepping from the tower, the Red Cross men made only a brief inspection of the rooms on the upper floor, and these they found comported well with the general elegance of the rest of the structure.
At length the three started down the grand stairway, with Don Hale's flash-light guiding the way. Reaching the foot they crossed the hall and pushed aside the heavy curtains hanging at the entrance to the next apartment.
And at the very instant Don Hale passed the portal he gave utterance to a loud exclamation of surprise.
"Look, look!" he cried.
The others at once grasped the significance of his words. The rays of light were streaming over the chair with which Chase had collided, but the piece of furniture was not in the place they had seen it last.
"Great Julius Cæsar!" blurted out Chase.
"Strange—strange!" murmured Dunstan.