Aunt Amanda tried the key, and it fitted; she turned it, and the lock snapped back. Toby thrust open the door.
The company entered, and Toby took the key and locked the door behind them. They were in a dark
passage, near the foot of a winding stair. "We had better go up where the light is," said Toby, in a whisper.
They went cautiously and noiselessly up the stair to the landing. There they found themselves in a hall, and at a little distance down the hall they saw a dim light shining under a closed door. "There it is," said Toby. "Come on."
With the same breathless caution they tiptoed to the door. It had no lock, and Toby turned the knob and slowly pushed it open.
"Ah!" said Toby, in a frightened gasp, and started back.
The others crowded at his back and pushed him forward. The Third Vice-President of the Society for Piratical Research brushed past him into the room, and the other six members followed him. The party of fugitives moved slowly in after them.
In the middle of the room was a large round table. In the center of this table stood some twenty wax tapers in silver candlesticks, burning brightly; and seated around the table were thirteen men.
Not one of these men moved as the party came into the room. Not a limb nor muscle stirred. The Third Vice-President coughed aloud. Still none of the men moved so much as a finger. The whole party came forward to the table and stood close behind the thirteen men and examined them. They were dead.
They were sitting in all positions. Food was before them, as if they were in the midst of a meal. Some were leaning across the table as if in conversation. Some were in the act of cutting meat on their plates, some in the act of putting forks to their mouths. Every face was ghastly white, and every eye was fixed in a vacant stare.