The light was rapidly growing dimmer and dimmer, the pillars cast long shadows, and the corners were already wrapt in darkness, through which here and there a figure on a monument stood out white against the gloomy background. Once more the girls thumped at the door and shouted, though they feared it would be of no avail. "There's only one thing left to be done, Cicely," said Lindsay at last. "And what's that?" "Go up into the belfry again and ring the bell. Everybody in the village would hear that, and Judson would come to see what was the matter." "Yes," replied Cicely with some hesitation, "I suppose we must--but----" "But what?" "We should have to walk up the belfry stairs." "Well?" "Oh, Lindsay, Sir Mervyn! Suppose we were to meet him on the staircase? The village people say he walks!" "And Monica said it was nothing but nonsense and superstition." Lindsay tried to sound brave, but she held Cicely's arm tightly notwithstanding. Poor Cicely felt "'twixt Scylla and Charybdis". To toll the bell seemed their only chance of escape, and to do so they must certainly mount into the square room where the rope was hanging. On the one hand was the prospect of spending some time in a building which was rapidly growing darker and darker, and on the other, there was a quick dash up the winding staircase, which was the centre of all her nervous fears. "We must do it," urged Lindsay. "Come along! Let us go now, before you think about it any more." It was very dark when they went through the small door and began groping their way up the narrow steps. There was not room for both to walk abreast, so Lindsay went first and Cicely clung tightly on to her skirt behind, ready to turn and flee precipitately if she heard the slightest sound from above. The stairs seemed twice as long as when they had mounted them before, and far narrower and steeper. "Here we are!" exclaimed Lindsay, when at last they found their feet on the flooring of the tower room. There was just light enough to faintly distinguish objects, and they were making straight for the bell rope when Cicely grasped Lindsay's arm in a panic of fear. "What's that noise?" she whispered breathlessly. "Where?" "There! Up the ladder in the roof!" Both girls listened, their hearts beating in great thumps. Cicely was not mistaken. There was a faint rustling, as if someone were moving softly about in the tower above. Too terrified even to run away, they stood with their eyes fixed on the open trapdoor that led up to the bell. "He's coming!" shrieked Cicely, as something large and white appeared silently through the aperture and glided down into the room. There was a sudden weird, uncanny cry, like a mournful, despairing wail, and a large pair of wings flapped through the open lattice that served for a window out into the thickness of the yew trees beyond. "It's an owl--a big white owl! That's your ghost, Cicely!" cried Lindsay, with intense relief.