with the high stone pillars by the roadside, and, looking through
between the rails, we saw the long avenue of oaks, and at the end of
this ill-boding tunnel, the pale face of the house glimmered in the
moonshine.

That would have been enough for me, that one glimpse of it, and the
sound of the night wind sighing and groaning among the branches.
But Jim swung the gate open, and up we went, the gravel squeaking
beneath our tread. It towered high, the old house, with many little
windows in which the moon glinted, and with a strip of water running
round three sides of it. The arched door stood right in the face of
us, and on one side a lattice hung open upon its hinges.

"We're in luck, Roddy," whispered Jim. "Here's one of the windows
open."

"Don't you think we've gone far enough, Jim?" said I, with my teeth
chattering.

"I'll lift you in first."

"No, no, I'll not go first."

"Then I will." He gripped the sill, and had his knee on it in an
instant. "Now, Roddy, give me your hands." With a pull he had me
up beside him, and a moment later we were both in the haunted house.

How hollow it sounded when we jumped down on to the wooden floor!
There was such a sudden boom and reverberation that we both stood
silent for a moment. Then Jim burst out laughing.