It was a man, could be nothing else. He went toward the body, for such he supposed it, bent down to feel it, and found nothing. This was strange. He lit more matches. Now he saw space; there was no body there. He stepped back several paces, astonished, lost in wonder; then he saw the thing again, saw it distinctly, and it seemed to move. It came toward him, or in his excited state of mind he fancied so. His light went out; he had no more matches. As he groped his way to the steps, or where he thought they were, something touched him on the shoulder. It was enough to startle any man, and he cried out in alarm. There was a faint, squeaking noise and a fluttering, then the thing touched his cheek and he smelt a deathlike odor. Thoroughly alarmed he groped out. He felt the damp wall; he had lost the steps; he must walk round, feeling until he came to them, being a circular dungeon he must come to them. It seemed an interminable time before he came to the opening and began to scramble up on his hands and knees. Tom Thrush waited in the boat. He thought him a long time gone and hoped nothing had happened. He knew it was a queer place to roam around. He whistled for company, then lit his pipe. Why didn't he come out of the beastly place? What was that? It sounded like a startled cry; it came from the tower. Tom shivered. He wasn't going in there to look for Carl Meason, not for any money. The smoke came from his pipe in jerky whiffs. Just as he was about to step out of the boat, go to the door and call, Carl Meason came out with a quick movement. Tom stared at him in amazement, not unmingled with fear. Meason was covered in dirt and damp from head to foot, there was blood on his hands, his face was blanched, a wild look in his eyes. He had no time to pull himself together before Tom saw it. His recovery however was remarkably quick considering what he had gone through. He had no desire to give himself away. He looked at his clothes and laughed. In the open again his courage revived. "It's the dirtiest damp hole I ever was in!" he said; and Tom recognized a difference in his voice. "Yer all over filth," said Tom. "Yer hands are bloody, ye've torn yer trousers. Where've yer been? Have yer seen anything?" "Rotten place," said Carl. "If I were Chesney I'd blow it up." "Did yer see anything?" persisted Tom. "What the deuce is there to see except bare walls and some ancient oak furniture, must be hundreds of years old." "It is," said Tom, "more--hundreds and hundreds. You looked a bit scared when you came out--white as a sheet, eyes near shooting out of yer head. Tell me what yer saw." "Nothing," said Carl. "The place gave me the horrors. I lost myself in the dungeon, took me a long time to find the steps again, that gave me a shock, I had no matches left." "There's folks been put in that place never saw the light o' day again. Do you believe it's haunted?" Carl made no reply for a few moments, then said: