Quicksilver Part 98

"Bah!" cried the doctor. "There, go and get your stable lanthorn and we'll see. Helen, my dear, we've got a ghost in the old stable loft: like to come and see it!"

"Very much, papa," said Helen, smiling in a way that put Peter on his mettle, for the moment before he had been ready to beg off.

He went pretty quickly to get his stable lanthorn, and came back with it alight, and looking very pale and sickly, while he bore a stout broomstick in the other hand.

"For shame, man! Put away that absurd thing," said the doctor, as he led the way through the gate in the wall, followed by Helen, Peter and Dan'l coming behind.

"Go first with the lanthorn," said the doctor to the old gardener, but Peter was stirred to action now.

"Mayn't I go first, sir!" he said.

"Oh yes, if you have enough courage," said the doctor; and Peter, looking very white, led the way to the foot of the ladder, went up, and the others followed him to the loft, and stood together on the old worm-eaten boards.

The lanthorn cast a yellow glow through its horn sides, and this, mingling with the faint pencils of daylight which came between the tiles, gave a very peculiar look to the place, festooned as the blackened beams were with cobwebs, which formed loops and pockets here and there.

"There's an old door at the extreme end there, or ought to be," said the doctor. "Go and open it."

Peter went on in advance.

"Mind the holes, my dear," said the doctor. "What's that?"

A curious rustling noise was heard, and, active as a young man, Dan'l ran back to the top of the ladder and descended quickly.

"Well 'tain't me as is skeart now," said Peter triumphantly.

Just then there was a sharp clap from somewhere in front, as if a small trap-door had been suddenly closed, and Dan'l's voice came up through the boards.

"Look out!" he shouted, and his voice sounded distant. "There's some one up in the far loft there. He tried to get down into one of the hay-racks, but I frightened him back."

"Stop there!" said the doctor. "We'll soon see who it is. Go on, Peter, and open that door. That young larder thief for a guinea, my dear," he continued to Helen, as Peter went on in advance.

"Door's nailed up, sir," said the latter worthy, as he reached the old door, and held the lanthorn up and down.

"How came it nailed up?" said the doctor, as he examined the place. "It has no business to be. Go and get an iron chisel or a crowbar. Are you there, Daniel?"

"Yes, sir," came from below. "I'm on the look-out. It's that there young poacher chap, Bob Dimsted."

Peter set the lanthorn on the floor and hurried off, leaving the little party watching and listening till he returned, but not a sound broke the silence, and there was nothing to see but the old worm-eaten wood and blackened tiles.

"I've brought both, sir," said Peter breathlessly, and all eagerness now, for he was ashamed of his fright.

"Wrench it open, then," said the doctor; and after a few sharp cracks the rotten old door gave way, and swung upon its rusty hinges, when a strange sight met the eyes of those who pressed forward into the further loft.

CHAPTER FORTY FIVE.

A STARTLING DISCOVERY.

The rough loft had been turned into a kind of dwelling-place, for there was a bed close under the tiles, composed of hay, upon which, neatly spread, were a couple of blankets. On the other side were a plate, a knife, a piece of bread, and a jam-pot, while in the centre were some rough boxes and an old cage, on the top of which sat the ragged squirrel.

"There," said Peter triumphantly, as he pointed to the squirrel.

The doctor was looking eagerly round in search of the dweller in this dismal loft, but there was no one visible.

"Found him, sir?" came from below.

"No, not yet," replied the doctor. "Here, Peter, go up that other place."

There was no hesitation on the groom's part now. He sprang up the second ladder and went along under the roof, but only to come back shaking his head.

"No one up there, sir."

"Are you sure he did not come down!" cried the doctor, as Peter lifted a rough trap at the side, through which, in bygone days, the horses' hay had been thrust down.

"Quite sure, sir," shouted back Dan'l. "I just see his legs coming down, and he s.n.a.t.c.hed 'em up again, and slammed the trap."

"The young rascal!" said the doctor; "he's here somewhere. There must be some loose boards under which he is hidden."

But there was not a loose board big enough to hide Bob Dimsted; and after another search the doctor rubbed his head in a perplexed manner.

"Shall I come up, sir, and have a look?" said Dan'l.

"No, no. Stay where you are, and keep a sharp look-out," cried the doctor. "Why, look here," he continued to Helen; "the young scoundrel has been leading a nice life here, like a Robinson Crusoe in an uninhabited island. Ah! at last!" shouted the doctor, staring straight before him; "there he is. Here, Peter, hand me the gun!"

Peter stared at his master, whose eyes twinkled with satisfaction, for his feint had had the desired effect--that of startling the hiding intruder.

As the doctor's words rang out there was a strange rustling sound overhead; and, as they all looked up, there came a loud crack, then another and another, and right up, nearly to the ridge of the roof, a leg came through, and then its fellow, in company with a shower of broken tiles, which rattled upon the rough floor of the loft.

The owner of the legs began to make a desperate effort to withdraw them, and they kicked about in a variety of peculiar evolutions; but before they could be extricated, Peter had climbed up to an oaken beam, which formed one of the roof ties, and from there reached out and seized one of the legs by the ankle.

"I've got him," he cried gleefully. "Which shall we do, sir--pull him through, or get the ladder up to the roof and drag him out?"

"Here, Daniel! Come up," said the doctor.

The old gardener came up eagerly; and one of his cast-iron grins expanded his face as he grasped the situation.

"Brayvo, Peter!" he cried. "That's the way to ketch a ghost. Hold him tight, lad!"

The doctor smiled.

"Don't let them hurt him, papa," whispered Helen.

"Oh no; they shall not hurt him," said the doctor quietly. Then, raising his voice--"Now, sir, will you come down quietly, or shall I send for the police to drag you out on to the roof?"

An indistinct murmur came down, after a vigorous struggle to get free.

"Woho! Woho, kicker!" cried Peter, speaking as if to a horse.