“I'll come, too,” he answered. “I'd like to see your ghosts again.” Then I heard Mr. Jermyn loitering at the stair-head while the Duke left the council-room. My hair was rising on my scalp; there was cold sweat on my forehead; it was as much as I could do to keep my teeth from chattering. I heard the Duke's feet upon the stairs; there were eleven stairs, I counted them. Presently I heard him say, “Now, Jermyn.” Then came Jermyn's answer of “This way, your Majesty.” He flung the door wide open, so that the Duke might enter. The two men passed into the room to examine the horrible owl. The Duke chuckled as the machine moved round to him. “How bright he keeps,” he said. “Yes,” Jermyn answered. “He won't need painting for a long while yet.” “No,” the Duke answered, “I hear, Jermyn, he's given you a most uncanny reputation.” “Yes,” said Jermyn, “the house has a bad name. What in the world is this?” In walking round the owl his foot had struck upon the unlucky tin candle-sconce which I had brought from the room above. “Sounds like a tin candle-stick,” said the Duke. “Yes,” said Mr. Jermyn, groping. “That's what it is. Now how in the world did it get here? It's the candle-stick from the dragon's head in the room above.” “Are you sure, Jermyn?” the Duke asked, in a voice which showed that he was agitated. “Yes, sir. Quite sure. But no one's been up there.” “There must be a spy,” said the Duke. The two voices spoke together for a moment in whispers. I could not hear what they said; but a moment later I heard the rasping, clinking noise of two swords being drawn. “Come out of that,” said Mr. Jermyn's voice. I felt that I was discovered; but I dared not stir from my covert. I heard the two men walking swiftly to the door. A hand plucked it from in front of me. I shrank back into the wall, covering my eyes with my hands, so that I should not see the two long sword-blades pointing at my throat. “Make no sound. Make no sound, now,” said the Duke, pressing his sword-point on my chest, so that I could feel it thrust hard upon me, as though it needed very little force to send it through. I made no sound. “Who are you?” said Mr. Jermyn, backing to the opening in the floor. “Kill him if he moves, sir. Candlish, Candlish. Bring a light. Bring a light. We've caught a moth.” I tried to swallow, but my throat seemed choked with dust. I heard the people downstairs bustling out of the room with candles. I tried to speak; but I could not. I was too much scared. I stood pressed hard against the wall, with the Duke's sword-point still in place. “Bring it in here, Candlish,” said Mr. Jermyn. There came a clattering noise from the window. Mr. Jermyn had released some heavy rolled up curtain-blinds, which covered the whole window. There was no chance, now, of being seen from the street, or from my uncle's house. Candlish entered carrying a candle. The others followed at his heels. “A boy. Eh?” he said. “What do you do here?” the Duke asked, staring hard at me.