"Here, quick, Jean, your hand!" cried his mother huskily; and on crawling towards the sound, Jean clutched his mother's arms, and dragged at her, for she was lying with part of her body in the hole, but in no real danger, though unnerved and terrified, her fancy having magnified the peril a hundredfold before she lay panting on the damp sawdust beside her son. "Not deep, not deep," she muttered; "but, ah, Jean, it was very dreadful! I felt as if the painted woman was dragging me down." "Hush!" whispered Jean as they crawled farther away; "what is that noise?" "_Bete_! would you frighten me?" hissed the old woman; and then she paused, for now distinctly heard, and as if ascending into the cellar through the hole, came a low blowing, panting noise; at first very soft, then louder and louder, as it came mingled with a plashing, scraping sound; nearer and nearer, and more plainly, as if someone was forcing a way along; while, at last, the panting noise was almost painful, for it was as of some hunted animal fighting for its breath. Nearer and nearer came the noise; and with blood seeming to freeze and grow sluggish in their veins, mother and son crept farther away from the hole, till they crouched, clinging together, against one of the bins, when Jean's elbow came in contact with an empty bottle, which clinked loudly. And still nearer came the sound, more rustling, more loud panting, echoing and hollow, as if sent through some large pipe; and, hardly daring to breathe, as they listened to the heavy throb, throb of their hearts, mother and son waited the result. Now there was a muttering noise heard along with the panting; then more rustling, and all louder and plainer; till, as mother and son crouched there with starting eyes, they could in imagination see a dripping figure emerge from the hole, and stand within a few feet of them. Then there was a silence so horrible that to the trembling couple it seemed worse than the coming of the noises. But there was relief at last in the sound as of one searching amongst bottles; and then the snap as of the opening of a box, followed by the striking of matches, first one and then another. The sweat gathered upon the listeners' faces as they thought of the result of the discovery, and the probable fate of her whose veil they had seen. But, as in the sewer, nothing but faint lines of light ensued, and tiny spots where the damp matches were thrown; when, as if to show that this was no supernatural visitant, a deep husky voice growled the word "damp!" as the box was thrown impatiently down.