ght; it _is_ chilly in these
passages; and unless I go back to my fire, my fire'll go out--won't it?
If you don't feel sure of your Pints of the Compass, come in to me and
I'll put you right again." He winked benevolently, whistled to the dogs,
and hobbled off. Magdalen heard him chuckle over his own success in
balking her curiosity on the subject of the second floor. "I know how
to deal with 'em!" said old Mazey to himself, in high triumph. "Tall and
short, native and foreign, sweethearts and wives--_I_ know how to deal
with 'em!"

Left by herself, Magdalen exemplified the excellence of the old sailor's
method of treatment, in her particular case, by ascending the stairs
immediately, to make her own observations on the second floor. The stone
passage here was exactly similar, except that more doors opened out of
it, to the passage on the first floor. She opened the two nearest doors,
one after another, at a venture, and discovered that both rooms were
bed-chambers. The fear of being discovered by one of the woman-servants
in a part of the house with which she had no concern, warned her not to
push her investigations on the bedroom floor too far at starting. She
hurriedly walked down the passage to see where it ended, discovered that
it came to its termination in a lumber-room, answering to the position
of the vestibule downstairs, and retraced her steps immediately.

On her way back she noticed an object which had previously escaped her
attention. It was a low truckle-bed, placed parallel with the wall, and
close to one of the doors on the bedroom side. In spite of its strange
and comfortless situation, the bed was apparently occupied at night by
a sleeper; the sheets were on it, and the end of a thick red fisherman's
cap peeped out from under the pillow. She ventured on opening the door
near which the bed was placed, and found herself, as she conjectured
from certain signs and tokens, in the admiral's sleeping chamber. A
moment's observation of the room was all she dared risk, and, softly
closing the door again, she returned to the kitchen regions.

The truckle-bed, and the strange position in which it was placed, dwelt
on her mind all through the afternoon. Who could possibly sleep in it?
The remembrance of the red fisherman's cap, and the knowledge she had
already gained of Mazey's dog-like fidelity to his master, helped her to
guess that the old sailor might be the occupant of the truckle-bed. But
why, with bedro