"The room's full of smoke and the smell of oil." Jarvis walked about, to make certain. "Somebody's been carrying a smoky lantern. We're getting warmer with that ghost." A dull thud came to their ears, from far within the building. Rusty jumped like a frightened fawn. "Good godelmity! What's dat?" Jarvis quietly walked across the room, to peer into the big stone fireplace. "Oh, Marse Warren, I want to go home!" Rusty had turned about, and his eyes took in two figures of ancient armor at the top of the broad half-flight of stairs, on a balcony daïs. He sank upon his knees and bobbed his head to the floor in obeisance. "What's the matter?" and Jarvis whirled about, with revolver drawn. His own nerves were beginning to get too taut, with the tension exaggerated by the superstition and fright of the negro. "Look! Look! Look at dem big black boogies standin' dere, Marse Warren. See 'em standin' dere?" Jarvis laughed and put his gun into his side pocket. "They're the same black things that scared you before, don't you remember?" "Oh, I'm so skeered, boss, dat I can't remember nuthin' at all." "Get up on your pins--they're nothing but old suits of armor, and you're liable to get some moonlight through you, Rusty, if there's another rear-end collision like that. You've been treading on my heels every step I take, and when I stop you bump into me." "But Marse Warren," pleaded the frightened darky, "I'm powerful 'fraid I might lose you!" "A fine chance," snorted Jarvis, looking about. "Well, Rusty, we've been through this old place pretty thoroughly, and not a sign of a soul--unless they pound or carry a smoky lantern. It's a clew, Rusty, it's a clew. We'll stick right here until we find out. This is the best room of the castle, and the ghost may prefer it." Jarvis crossed to the fireplace again, and striking a match, held it into the opening. Its flicker indicated a good draught. "There, Rusty," he said. "It's a good chance for a fire. The chimney's clear. Now break up that lopsided, rickety table there and make a fire. You won't feel half so scared with a good blaze behind you." He turned toward the half-flight of stairs, with a studious expression as he mentally measured the heights and thickness of the walls and ceiling. "I'll scout around a bit, Rusty." "Don't you do scoutin' outsiden dis room." Rusty crossed to the fireplace, with the pieces of easily-smashed table legs, and began to light the fire. "This was probably the banquet hall, Rusty." "Yes, and say, Marse Warren, when we-all goin' ter eat?" "When we get through with this job." He turned thoughtfully toward the big windows on the south of the room, and mused aloud: "That's the way through the two long rooms to the postern gate. Umm." "That's where that black thing followed me." "Yes, and a black thing followed me, walking on my heels every step I took. I couldn't see where I was stepping." "That goes to the armory."