"Oh, it's a dungeon!" cried Gertrude, starting back. "Perhaps the
floor will give way, and let us down into places with knives and
scythes. You remember 'The Dumberdene,' Bell?"

"No fear, Gertrude," said Hildegarde. "Nothing more horrible than
the dining-room is under our feet. But this,--this is very
mysterious. Can you see anything, Bell?"

"I begin to get a faint glimmer," said Bell. "Of course, if it is
a chimney-room there cannot be any particular light. Shall we
creep in? There is evidently a good deal of space."

"By all means," cried Hildegarde. "But let me go first, to bear
the brunt of any horrors there may be. Spiders I would not face,
but they must all be dead years ago."

She crept in on her hands and knees, closely followed by the two
Merryweathers. Growing accustomed to the dimness, they found
themselves in a small square chamber, high enough for them to
stand upright. The walls were smooth, and thick with dust; the
floor was carpeted with something that felt soft and close, like
an Eastern rug.

"We simply MUST have light!" cried Hildegarde. "Wait, girls! I
will bring a candle and matches."

"No! no!" cried Bell. "Wait a moment! I think I have found a
window, or something like one, if I can only get it open."

Again there was a soft, complaining sound, and then a sliding