It was pitch dark on the other side of the door, and the old woman called out to the girl in green to hold a light for them, which she did, standing in the doorway holding a flickering taper above her head. Jack and Molly followed the old woman along a short passage, down a flight of stone steps to a door at the bottom. She took a key from her pocket, and calling to the girl in green again, telling her to hold the light at the top of the steps, she fumbled at the lock, opened the door, and then, without more ado, she pushed Jack and Molly inside, and slammed the door on them. They heard her lock the door, then go shuffling up the steps, grumbling to herself. Then another door banged—and all was silent. Jack and Molly were in absolute darkness, and could not see an inch in front of them. They dared not move, but stood still clinging hold of each other. “Oh, Jack, why _did_ we trust her?” sobbed Molly. “How were we to know ... she seemed so decent ... the sneak!” said Jack. “Oh, can’t we _do_ anything, Molly?” It was dreadful, just standing in the dark—waiting. They talked in low tones to each other for a while, wondering how long it would be before the Pumpkin arrived. Neither of them dared to speak of what he might do when he came. If—if anything happened to them, would any one miss them, and come in search of them—— And then Molly remembered. “Jack!” she cried. “The matches! Old Nancy’s matches!” “Why ever didn’t we think of them before?” exclaimed Jack. Now was the time to use them, undoubtedly; for if ever there was a dark place where some light was needed.... Jack and Molly were fumbling eagerly in their satchels. “Be careful, Jack,” said Molly. “Don’t drop any. Have you got yours yet? I have. Now I’ll strike one—and see what happens.” Jack was still searching his satchel for his box of matches. Meanwhile Molly took a match out of her box and struck it. The children were not quite sure what they had expected to happen, but they felt vaguely disappointed to see just an ordinary little flare of light spring out of the darkness. Just an ordinary little flickering match. Anyway, they could now see what sort of a place they were shut up in. It was a kind of underground cellar, small and square and high roofed, and except for a few old boxes in one corner, empty. The walls were damp and mouldy, the floor broken and uneven, and the place seemed full of cobwebs. And then they realized that it was not quite an ordinary match. It burnt longer, and, strange to say, the rays from it were concentrating all in one direction—like a long thin streak of light—pointing. Jack and Molly quickly sensed this. But what was the light pointing at? The flame was directed straight toward the boxes in the corner. The children crossed the cellar and examined the boxes. They looked like wooden sugar boxes; there were three of them; and they were all empty. Jack pulled them away from the wall, but there was nothing behind them.