For a moment they stood in the darkness, breathing very hard, when their ears were startled by the sudden clanking of chains! The sound proceeded from the baronial hall, where for centuries had stood wooden figures, clothed in armour! The clanking noise sounded so horrible, that they all rushed down the kitchen stairs, one on top of another, in wild confusion. Roger, the footman, was the first to make the descent, which he did six stairs at a time. But directly he and the rest got to the bottom in breathless haste, they were still more horrified at the sight that confronted them. For there stood at the foot of the stairs a skeleton form, sword in hand! “Ha! ha!” he gruffly laughed, as he flourished his weapon. The footman shouted in terror, and turned on his heel to flee upstairs again. The rest followed him, bellowing and screaming at the top of their voices. Upstairs they flew in wild dismay, tearing their clothes, and knocking each other about in the darkness, making all haste to leave far behind them the dreadful form they had seen below. No man, or woman either, ever mounted flights of stairs with such expedition as did the servants on this memorable occasion. Coat tails were torn off, wigs were lost, trousers were torn behind in very unpleasant and uncomfortable places, and more than one received hard thumps in the ribs from some one they knew not. But this was nothing, so that they could escape with their lives. Once in the entrance hall again they ran towards the great drawing-room. The door was unexpectedly and very hastily opened for them by a skeleton! With a cry of agony and surprise they turned towards the baronial hall as a place of safety. They reached the doorway almost fainting with fatigue and fright. A man in armour strode forth to meet them, lance in hand! More than one fainted on the spot. Roger, the footman, like a brave man, trusted to his legs once more, followed by as many of his fellow servants as had any strength left in them; he vanished up the great staircase at lightning speed. It seemed to be a race for life or death with all of them. Round and round the staircase they manfully ascended, never casting a single look behind. They had gained the long, wide corridor which led to Sir Richard’s library, and all felt safe. Roger, as may be imagined, was first, and opened the door. His foot caught in the carpet on the threshold, and down he went on his face, swelling his nose to the size of a cucumber. The others, in wild confusion, rushed after him and tumbled, men and women, head over heels on the prostrate footman, nearly smothering him with their combined weight. “What mean all this uproar and fright?” said the old knight, rising in great anger. “Are ye all turned mad, ye noisy, raving knaves? Explain, I say, explain!” But none of the servants could explain anything, for they were all out of breath, and as pale as death.