"I got on to the staircase, and went down gingerly, a step at a time. It was wooden, and the stairs were pretty rotten; they creaked as I moved, and I clung on to a rope that made a sort of hand-rail, afraid of pitching head first to the bottom. It smelled very close, and I took some time to go down, for the stairs were narrow, and as it was a winding staircase they scarcely gave foothold except at the wall end. At last I got to the bottom, and then I saw a glint or two of light coming through chinks in the doorway. "I had only just got there when I fancied I heard a rustling outside. ’Mercy me!’ I thought; ’this isn’t signaling time; but I hope no one is coming for the kegs.’ I scrambled up the staircase a good deal quicker than I picked my way down, and crawled through the hole in the cupboard. Then I nearly jumped out of my skin, for I saw a man sitting on the rickety chair. It was Monsieur de Fronsac." *CHAPTER IX* *CLOSE QUARTERS* "Ah, Monsieur Jack!" said De Fronsac, with his agreeable smile; "I see you!" Jack laughed. It was only the Frenchman after all! His fear that it might be a smuggler was groundless. "Yes; I’m too black for a ghost; ’tis a confoundedly dirty place, Monsieur. But how do you come here?" "It is ver’ simple, ver’ simple indeed. I came out in de early morning, to promenade myself, and to compose a new sonnet on de Monstair. Behold! Vat do I see? De trap-door of dis tower is open; and, vat is dis?—assuredly I see steps mounting up to de very sommit. I am romantic, as you know, Monsieur; I love de bizarre. Can I venture myself? Dat old Congleton—vat a strange, an eccentric! I vould like to see de place vere he lived so solitaire. I climb; I have a little fear; but I make de ascension; I arrive. Ho! Dis, den, is de place. Vat a magnificent spot for to compose poesy! How beautiful de spectacle over de blue, blue sea! Magnificent! Glorious! Old Congleton had a genius, hein? But you, Monsieur Jack, how came you here?" "The same way as you, Monsieur." "Ah! remarkable! You do not compose poesy in de early morning! You, I t’ink—and your good cousin t’inks—you sail on de blue, blue sea. De steps, too; surely dey are new. Never have I observed dem before. It is remarkable! Old Congleton—did he ascend de tower in dat manner? Or perhaps de steps are your vork; you invent dem, Monsieur Jack?" "No," said Jack shortly. He had never liked De Fronsac’s smile.