We proceeded to explore this vast cellar, and found that there was an air shaft which apparently communicated with the roof of the house; but it was choked with rubbish, old boxes, and the like. The gardener cleared this away, and then, looking up, we could see the blue sky overhead. Continuing our exploration, we noted that in a recess formed by the angle of the walls was a quantity of bricks and mortar. Under other circumstances this would not, perhaps, have aroused our curiosity or suspicions. But in this instance it did; and we examined the wall thereabouts with painful interest, until the conviction was forced upon us that a space of over a yard in width, and extending from floor to roof, had recently been filled in. I was drawn towards the new brickwork by some subtle magic, some weird fascination. I examined it with an eager, critical, curious interest, and the thoughts that passed through my brain were reflected in the faces of my companions. We looked at each other, and each knew by some unexplainable instinct what was passing in his fellow’s mind. ‘It seems to me we are face to face with some mystery,’ remarked Dick, solemnly. Indeed, throughout all the years I had known him I had never before seen him so serious. Usually his expression was that of good-humoured cynicism, but now he might have been a judge about to pronounce the doom of death on a red-handed sinner. ‘Yes,’ I answered, ‘there is a mystery, unless I have been tricked by my own fancy.’ ‘Umph! it is strange,’ muttered Dick to himself. ‘Well, sir,’ chimed in the gardener, ‘you know there have been some precious queer stories going about for a long time. And before you come and took the place plenty of folks round about used to say they’d seen some uncanny sights. I never had no faith in them stories myself; but, after all, maybe there’s truth in ’em.’ Dick picked up half a brick and began to tap the wall with it where the new work was, and the taps gave forth a hollow sound, quite different from the sound produced when the other parts of the wall were struck. ‘I say, old chap,’ exclaimed my host, with a sorry attempt at a smile, ‘upon my word, I begin to experience a sort of uncanny kind of feeling. I’ll be hanged if I am not getting as superstitious as you are.’ ‘You may call me superstitious if you like, but either I have seen what I have seen, or my senses have played the fool with me. Anyway, let us put it to the test.’ ‘How?’ ‘By breaking away some of that new brickwork.’ Dick laughed a laugh that wasn’t a laugh, as he asked: ‘What do you expect to find?’ I hesitated what to say, and he added the answer himself--‘Mouldering bones, if your ghostly visitor hasn’t deceived you.’ ‘Mouldering bones!’ I echoed involuntarily. ‘Gardener, have you got a crowbar amongst your tools?’ Dick asked. ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘Go up and get it.’ The man obeyed the command.