He raised the trap-door, and almost immediately a voice ascended to his ear from the darkness below. He peered down, but could see nothing. 'Wha is there--wha spoke?' asked the butler. 'I--I, the Master,' replied the weak voice of Allan Graham. 'You, sir--heaven be gude tae us! You sir! hoo in God's name cam' ye to be doon there?' cried Tappleton, in mingled joy, horror, and great perplexity. 'Summon help--there's a good old fellow; get me out, and then you will know all--quick, Tappleton, or--or I shall not last much longer,' replied Allan, faintly, and at intervals, in a voice so low that his last words seemed to die away, while Tappleton rushed off as fast as his years would permit, to seek Lord Aberfeldie and alarm the whole household, which he did very effectually by a sudden and furious application to the great house-bell, causing a very general idea of fire, and bringing all from their rooms in various kinds of _déshabille_ at that early hour of the morning. 'The Master's found--the Master's found!' he kept shouting on every hand. 'Where--where?' asked twenty voices. 'Ay, ye may weel ask _whar_,' was the tantalizing response. In the breast of Lord Aberfeldie and all his household incredulity at first, and then profound astonishment, reigned for a time on the butler making himself understood, and all hastened to the scene of his discovery. 'The Master--the Master down there,' muttered the servants, looking inquiringly in each other's faces. 'How came such a thing to pass?' They jostled and impeded each other; but Lord Aberfeldie's authority and soldier-like promptitude soon defined a line of action. 'Lights--lights and ropes; look alive, men!' he exclaimed. These requisites were soon brought. 'Lower away--take courage--we'll soon have you out,' exclaimed his father. 'Tie the ropes tightly round you.' Allan, in a faint voice, made them aware that this was impossible, as his left arm was broken, tidings which added commiseration and grief to the blank amazement of Olive, Eveline, and his mother. 'Who will go down?' asked Lord Aberfeldie, looking around him. 'I--and I--and I!' Every man in the house was ready to descend, but Angus Glas, the active young deerstalker, slid down the rope with a lanthorn in his hand, followed by the prayer of Olive, who would not be kept back, her eyes wild, her now pale lips apart, her sweet face blanched, and a strange stiffness in all her usually lithe limbs.