The martyr rose, pale but proud.

"Well, can I go then, if I can't have any more tea?"

"There's plenty of bread and butter."

"I don't want bread and butter," he said, scornfully.

"Dear child!" murmured Cousin Mildred, vaguely, as he departed.

He returned to the story and lemonade and apple, and stretched himself
happily at full length in the shady barn.

"But the ghostly visitant seemed to be fading away, and with a soft
sigh was gone. Our hero, with a start of surprise, realised that he
was alone with the gold and the skeleton. For the first time he
experienced a thrill of cold fear and slowly retreated up the stairs
before the hollow and, as it seemed, vindictive stare of the grinning
skeleton."

"I wonder wot he was grinnin' at?" said William.

"But to his horror the door was shut, the panel had slid back. He had
no means of opening it. He was imprisoned on a remote part of the
castle, where even the servants came but rarely, and at intervals of
weeks. Would his fate be that of the man whose bones gleamed white in
the moonlight?"

"Crumbs!" said William, earnestly.