we slept last night--where the altar is that your
egg was hatched on.'

'Oh, there!' said the Phoenix. 'Well, I'll do my best.' It fluttered on
to the carpet and walked up and down for a few minutes in deep thought.
Then it drew itself up proudly.

'I CAN help you,' it said. 'I am almost sure I can help you. Unless I
am grossly deceived I can help you. You won't mind my leaving you for an
hour or two?' and without waiting for a reply it soared up through the
dimness of the tower into the brightness above.

'Now,' said Cyril, firmly, 'it said an hour or two. But I've read
about captives and people shut up in dungeons and catacombs and things
awaiting release, and I know each moment is an eternity. Those people
always do something to pass the desperate moments. It's no use our
trying to tame spiders, because we shan't have time.'

'I HOPE not,' said Jane, doubtfully.

'But we ought to scratch our names on the stones or something.'

'I say, talking of stones,' said Robert, 'you see that heap of stones
against the wall over in that corner. Well, I'm certain there's a hole
in the wall there--and I believe it's a door. Yes, look here--the stones
are round like an arch in the wall; and here's the hole--it's all black
inside.'

He had walked over to the heap as he spoke and climbed up to
it--dislodged the top stone of the heap and uncovered a little dark
space.

Next moment every one was helping to pull down the heap of stones, and
very soon every one threw off its jacket, for it was warm work.

'It IS a door,' said Cyril, wiping his face, 'and not a bad thing
either, if--'

He was going to add 'if anything happens to the Phoenix,' but he didn't
for fear of frightening Jane. He was not an unkind boy when he had
leisure to think of such things.

The arched hole in the wall grew larger and larger. It was very, very
black, even compared with the sort of twilight at the bottom of the
tower; it grew larger because the children kept pulling off the stones
and throwing them down into another heap. The stones must have been
there a very long time, for they were covered with moss, and some of
them were stuck together by it. So it was fairly hard work, as Robert
pointed out.

When the hole reached to about halfway between the top of the arch
and the tower, Robert and Cyril let themselves down cautiously on the
inside, and lit matches. How thankful they felt then that they had a
sensible father, who did not forbid them to