eautiful glen
until they were immediately beneath the old castle.

The spot was remote and seldom visited. Few ever came there, for it was
approached by no path on that side of the burn, so that the keepers
always passed along the opposite bank. They had no necessity to
penetrate there. Besides, it was too near the house.

Through the bracken and undergrowth, passing by big trees that in the
ages had sprung up from seedlings dropped by the birds or sown by the
winds, they slowly ascended to the frowning walls far above--the walls
that had withstood so many sieges and the ravages of so many centuries.

Half a dozen times the girl's skirt became entangled in the briars, and
once she tore her cape upon some thorns. But, enjoying the adventure,
she went on, Walter going first and clearing a way for her as best he
could.

"Nobody has ever been up here before, I'm quite certain," Gabrielle
cried, halting, breathless, for a moment. "Old Stewart, who says he
knows every inch of the estate, has never climbed here, I'm sure."

"I don't expect he has," declared her lover.

At last they found themselves beneath the foundations of one of the
flanking-towers of the castle walls, whereupon he suggested that if they
followed the wall right along and examined it closely they might
discover some entrance.

"I somehow fear there will not be any door on the exposed side," he
added.

The base of the walls was all along hidden by thick undergrowth,
therefore the examination proved extremely difficult. Nevertheless,
keenly interested in their exploration, the pair kept on struggling and
climbing until the perspiration rolled off both their faces.

Suddenly, Walter uttered a cry of surprise. "Why, look here! This seems
like a track. People _have_ been up here after all!"

And his companion saw that from the burn below, up through the bushes,
ran a narrow winding path, which showed little sign of frequent use.

Walter went on before her, quickly following the path until it turned at
right-angles and ended before a low door of rough wood which filled a
small breach in the wall--a breach made, in all probability, at the last
siege in the early seventeenth century.

"This must lead somewhere!" cried Walter excitedly; and, lifting the
roughly constructed wooden latch, he pushed the door open, disclosing a
cavernous darkness.

A dank, earthy smell greeted their nostrils. It was certainly an uncanny
place.

"By Jove!" cried Walter,