doorway
and gap in the wall; retraced his steps at every rustling of the air
among the leaves; and searched in every shadowed nook with outstretched
hands. Thus they made the circuit of the building: but they returned
to the spot from which they had set out, without encountering any human
being, or finding the least trace of any concealed straggler.

After a short pause, Mr Haredale shouted twice or thrice. Then cried
aloud, 'Is there any one in hiding here, who knows my voice! There is
nothing to fear now. If any of my people are near, I entreat them
to answer!' He called them all by name; his voice was echoed in many
mournful tones; then all was silent as before.

They were standing near the foot of the turret, where the alarm-bell
hung. The fire had raged there, and the floors had been sawn, and hewn,
and beaten down, besides. It was open to the night; but a part of the
staircase still remained, winding upward from a great mound of dust and
cinders. Fragments of the jagged and broken steps offered an insecure
and giddy footing here and there, and then were lost again, behind
protruding angles of the wall, or in the deep shadows cast upon it by
other portions of the ruin; for by this time the moon had risen, and
shone brightly.

As they stood here, listening to the echoes as they died away, and
hoping in vain to hear a voice they knew, some of the ashes in this
turret slipped and rolled down. Startled by the least noise in that
melancholy place, Solomon looked up in his companion's face, and saw
that he had turned towards the spot, and that he watched and listened
keenly.

He covered the little man's mouth with his hand, and looked again.
Instantly, with kindling eyes, he bade him on his life keep still, and
neither speak nor move. Then holding his breath, and stooping down,
he stole into the turret, with his drawn sword in his hand, and
disappeared.

Terrified to be left there by himself, under such desolate
circumstances, and after all he had seen and heard that night, Solomon
would have followed, but there had been something in Mr Haredale's
manner and his look, the recollection of which held him spellbound. He
stood rooted to the spot; and scarcely venturing to breathe, looked up
with mingled fear and wonder.

Again the ashes slipped and rolled--very, very softly--again--and then
again, as though they crumbled underneath the tread of a stealthy foot.
And now a figure was dimly visible; climbing very softl