“Not precisely. But, I say, Kingsley, what light is that shining through there? I mean to see.” “No, you won't,” said Sir Norman, rapidly and noiselessly replacing the flag. “It's nothing, I tell you, but a number of will-o-'wisps having a ball. Finally, and for the last time, Mr. Ormiston, will you have the goodness to tell me what has sent you here?” “Come out to the air, then. I have no fancy for talking in this place; it smells like a tomb.” “There is nothing wrong, I hope?” inquired Sir Norman, following his friend, and threading his way gingerly through the piles of rubbish in the profound darkness. “Nothing wrong, but everything extremely right. Confound this place! It would be easier walking on live eels than through these winding and lumbered passages. Thank the fates, we are through them, at last! for there is the daylight, or, rather the nightlight, and we have escaped without any bones broken.” They had reached the mouldering and crumbling doorway, shown by a square of lighter darkness, and exchanged the damp, chill atmosphere of the vaults for the stagnant, sultry open air. Sir Norman, with a notion in his head that his dwarfish highness might have placed sentinels around his royal residence, endeavored to pierce the gloom in search of them. Though he could discover none, he still thought discretion the better part of valor, and stepped out into the road. “Now, then, where are you going?” inquired Ormiston for, following him. “I don't wish to talk here; there is no telling who may be listening. Come along.” Ormiston glanced back at the gloomy rain looming up like a black spectre in the blackness. “Well, they must have a strong fancy for eavesdropping, I must say, who world go to that haunted heap to listen. What have you seen there, and where have you left your horse?” “I told you before,” said Sir Norman, rather impatiently, “that I have seen nothing--at least, nothing you would care about; and my horse is waiting me at the Golden Crown.” “Very well, we have no time to lose; so get there as fast as you can, and mount him and ride as if the demon were after you back to London.” “Back to London? Is the man crazy? I shall do no such thing, let me tell you, to-night.” “Oh, just as you please,” said Ormiston, with a great deal of indifference, considering the urgent nature of his former request. “You can do as you like, you know, and so can I--which translated, means, I will go and tell her you have declined to come.” “Tell her? Tell whom? What are you talking about? Hang it, man!” exclaimed Sir Norman, getting somewhat excited and profane, “what are you driving at? Can't you speak out and tell me at once?” “I have told you!” said Ormiston, testily: “and I tell you again, she sent me in search of you, and if you don't choose to come, that's your own affair, and not mine.”