The dog responded with a sharp, angry bark, evidently from some distance. "Oh, I see what it is; he can smell rats." "But we can't have him making that noise in the middle of the night." "Come out, sir!" cried George, entering the cellar and calling the dog, who came bounding towards him; but as an effort was made to seize his collar, he sprang round and dashed back. "Give me the candle, Mr Hampton." "No," said the old man; "you'll want both hands to him. I'll light you, or you'll think I'm a terrible coward. I'm not used to dogs." He looked smilingly in his companion's face, and went to the front. "I know the cellar better than you do, sir. Good heavens, dog?" The lawyer and the light were both nearly upset, for as he moved forward Bruno literally rushed at him, but only to turn again and run back right into the depths of the cellar. "Here, Bruno! Come here, sir!" cried George sternly. "We don't want to go ratting now." But the dog paid no heed to the call, and went on barking furiously, while the next minute they reached the spot where he stood with his head outstretched, making the place echo. "Come here, you old stupid!" said George good-humouredly; and, taking hold of the dog's collar with one hand, he patted his head with the other. "Now, then, we don't want to find rats. Come along." The dog looked up in his face, whined, and then swung round and going to the blank patch of whitewashed wall, threw up his head and howled. "Yes, it must be rats," said the old lawyer, "behind that bricked-up part. Try and drive him out." George Harrington turned sharply on the lawyer. "Bricked-up part?" he said. "Yes, there's another cellar there through that arch, where old Mr Harrington laid down a quantity of wine for his grandson. Well, what is it? Yes; that's the place." George had snatched the candle, and gone to the wall to hold the light close to the whitewashed bricks. As he did so the dog grew more uneasy and excited, looking from one to the other, and barking at the wall. "Well?" said the old lawyer, as his companion turned sharply and looked him full in the eyes. "You said you did not understand dogs, Mr Hampton?" "No, not a bit; but I think we ought to get this noisy brute out of the house." "I do understand them a little," said George excitedly. "Mr Hampton, there's something wrong here." "What do you mean?" "You say that is a bricked-up part of the cellar?" "Yes; the old man did it for his heir." "And it has never been opened since?" "Of course not." George looked at the brickwork again, scanning it very narrowly with the candle close to the wall. "Yes, it has," he said, taking out his knife, and trying the mortar between the bricks, and then the other parts. "This mortar is comparatively soft." "Dampness of the place." "Newness of the mortar, sir. That dog, by his wonderful instinct, knows that something is wrong behind here."