“There’s naught to be afeard on, lad,” says Gregory after a while. “’Tis some poor body that has striven to escape with his treasure many a generation ago and had fallen here to die. But there’s matter there, Master Dick,” he says, pointing to the jewels, “that’s well worth the picking up, and you’ve a right to them, sir, for this must ha’ been a Coope in bygone days. But let’s on, lad, and see where this passage ends, for that’s the main thing after all.” I stepped over the skeleton with a shudder, being already made squeamish by the horrible things in the cellars, and we went slowly along the passage, I half-expectant of discovering some further horror. But despite an occasional obstacle in the way of a fallen mass of stone or earth there was little to hinder us, and at last we came to where the passage narrowed and seemed to end in an approach no wider than a fox hole. “It’s useless after all, Gregory,” says I, sore disappointed. “The tunnel has been blocked at this end. There’s no way out here that I can see.” “Softly, lad, softly,” says he. “Let me come by you,” and he pushed his way along the rapidly narrowing passage until I thought he must have stuck fast. “By the Lord Harry!” he says, “but there is an opening here, Master Dick, and ’tis into the open air, too--I can smell it. And if so be as you’ll put out the light for a moment, I’ll lay aught we shall see a glimpse of the sky, for the moon was rising two hours ago.” But I had no mind to put out the light, though we had flint and steel with us, so I settled matters by taking off my doublet and wrapping it about the lanthorn. “There!” says Gregory, “Said I not so?” and I looked and saw a space of grey light, the size of a man’s hand, high above us where the passage shot upward. “What’s to be done now?” says I: “We can’t squeeze through that.” “No,” says he, “but we can make it bigger. This is naught but soft earth that’s gradually fallen in to the mouth o’ the passage, Master Richard. Do you scoop it away at that side,” he says, “and I’ll scoop at this, and it shall go hard if we don’t make a good road on’t.” We set to work at this without more ado and toiled hard for a good hour. “There,” says Gregory at last, “if I cannot push my shoulders through what’s left may I never lift sack of corn again i’ my life!” He gave a mighty heave and the loose soil came tumbling about him. I saw his neck twisting and turning about “May I die!” he says, as he drew it within, leaving a good two feet square of moonlit sky to fill the hole, “if it doesn’t open into Matthew Wood’s orchard! I ha’ been over this place many a time,” says he. “From without it looks like an old drain that’s been filled in long ago. And now, lad,” he says, as we drew back into the passage beneath, “there’s a free road for us. What’s to be done next?” “Back to the Manor,” says I, and took my doublet off the lanthorn. “The road’s there, to be sure,” I says, “but whether we can persuade Mistress Alison to take it----”