"Partly, perhaps, from superstition, but more from an idea that the dead are helpless to defend themselves," answered my father. "If a man have any manhood in him, his heart will be touched by the plea of helplessness. It is only when men are turned into demons by war or cruelty or lust that they will disregard the plea of helplessness." That very night at midnight, the corpse of our good old friend was conveyed down to the vault, beneath the ruined chapel, and built into one of the niches of the wall with some of the rough stones which lay loose about the floor. I had never been in the vault before, and my father cautioned me to beware how I stepped. The floor was of the natural rock, rough and uneven, and in some places were deep cracks from which issued a solemn roaring sound, now loud, now faint and almost dying away. By one of the niches I have mentioned which surrounded the vault, and which were like small chambers hewn in the rock, was placed a little pile of building materials. In this chamber was placed the body of our good old friend. My father read from my mother's prayer-book the funeral service of the Church of England, so solemn, touching, and comforting. Then the vault was built up with stones taken from the floor, and carefully daubed with mould and slime, to look as much like the rest of the wall as possible. It was a dreary funeral enough, but not so sad as was many another in these sad days, when many a dutiful child had to look on and see the body of a father or mother dragged away on a hurdle and cast into a bog or buried in a dunghill. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER VIII. FLIGHT. THE next day my father took Andrew and myself once more into the vault—this time by the secret passage which led from the pastor's room in the tower. We had a lantern with us, which we lighted as soon as we had shut ourselves in, for the lower passage and the staircase were quite dark. "I made a discovery in this place some years since, which I think may be of great service to us, if worse comes to worst," said my father. "There used to be a legend to the effect that a great cavern existed under this vault which had an outlet to the sea-shore, and to which there was formerly an entrance from this place. It was said that this entrance had been built up on account of some dreadful crime committed in the cavern. However that may be, in trying when a young man, to satisfy my curiosity upon the subject, I found an underground passage leading from hence to the little ruined tower in the orchard, which you were teaching Vevette to sketch the other day." "How curious!" said Andrew. "What could it have been used for?"