"All right, then," assented Cicely, agreeing as usual with Lindsay's proposal. The small, nail-studded oak door leading to the tower stood open, and they could see that there was a winding staircase inside. There was nobody to forbid them to explore, and though they knew they were due back at the Manor they considered they might allow themselves a little latitude in the way of time. It was rather dark up the corkscrew stairs, though there was a slit every now and then in the wall to admit air and light. At the top they found themselves in a square room, where the clerk evidently pulled the bell on Sundays, for the rope was hanging within easy reach. The roof was made of enormous oak rafters, and through it ran a ladder reaching higher than they could see. "That will be the way up to the bell," said Lindsay. "What a horrible place for Sir Mervyn to climb!" commented Cicely. "I can imagine him rushing up with a dagger in his hand, and the others swarming after him. I'm almost sorry they killed him. He was very brave, although he was so bad. You go first, Lindsay." Up and up they toiled, till they thought they should never reach the top. "The bell's hung very high," panted Cicely. "We're nearly there now," replied Lindsay. The ladder ended in a rough platform which was built round the bell, probably to allow workmen to attend to it now and then in case it were not hanging safely. It looked a great mass of metal, so large and heavy that even the clapper must be an enormous weight. "There's a very queer mark on it here," said Cicely, in rather an awed voice. Lindsay walked round to the other side of the platform. There was a most curious stain running along a portion of the bottom of the bell--a dull, irregular mark that might well have had its origin in some dark and dreadful deed. Cicely touched it cautiously, and then looked at her finger as if she expected to find the traces red on her hand. "I think we'd better go down again," she said, with a shiver. "All right, only I want to look out of the window first. Oh, what a glorious view!" There was indeed a splendid prospect to be seen from the old church tower--a vista of village roofs, and tree tops, and fields, and winding high road, and distant woods and hills, all bathed in the beautiful, rosy light of sunset. It was so lovely that the girls stood for some time watching the sky turn from pink to crimson, and great bands of dappled clouds catch the reflection from the glow beneath. They quite forgot that supper would probably be over at the Manor, and that Miss Russell would be wondering why Monica had kept them so long, and wishing she had not allowed them to go without Miss Frazer or one of the monitresses to escort them back.