"'Well,' argued the first suavely, 'it may come to that, of course. But let us give this a good trial first. To it, Dick--to it!' "'Aye, "To it, Dick--to it!" And your own arm up to the elbow in your blessed pocket,' he grunted, and I could hear him set to work again with an angry snarl. 'If this doesn't fetch it--well--there's always the woman!' "'Aye--but it _will_ do it this time,' said the man with the soft voice. 'I hear by the clink of the crow that you are nearly through. My uncle used often to tell me about this. The big green mound is the ice-house of Marnhoul. It was his father that made it, and the passage also to connect with the cellar. See where it drains sideways into that ditch. That is what makes the green stuff grow so rank about there!' "Between the noise of the heavy crowbar and the dispute, I ventured to edge a bit closer, so that at last I could make out the two men, and beyond them something that looked like a figure of a woman lying under a cloak. But all was under the dimness of the stars and the twinkling dew, so that I could see nothing clearly. "But what I had heard was enough, for in the middle of the worker's gasping and cursing there came a sudden crash and a jingle. "'She's through--I told you so. Uncle Edward was right!' cried the first and taller man, while the other only stared at the sudden disappearance of his tool, and stood looking blankly at his own empty hands. "'What's to be done now?' said the tall man. "'Lever it up with the nose of the pick!' growled the short thick man; 'here, you--hang on to that!' "And then I knew that the sooner Duncan and 'King George' were down in the cellar of Marnhoul House, the better it would be for our lives." * * * * * When Agnes Anne finished we sat a moment agape. But very evidently there was no time to be lost. They would be among us before we knew it, if once they got down into the passage. We tried to find out from Irma where the cellar was, but she was sunk in terrible thoughts, and for a long while she could say nothing but "Lalor Maitland--it is Lalor Maitland, come to kill my poor Louis!" And indeed it was difficult to get her aroused sufficiently to help us. Left to herself I do not doubt that she would have gone up-stairs and fled with the child in her arms in the hope of hiding him in the wood. At last we got it out of her that the keys of the cellar were in the great cupboard behind the door. She directed us to a double flight of broad stairs. Irma had only looked into the cellar when she first came, and had found it rifled, the barrels dry and gaping, full of dust, dry-rot and the smell of decay. But she too had heard her father tell of the passage to the ice-house, and how he and his brothers had used it for their escapades when the house was locked up and the keys taken to their father's room.