a great splash arose at the bottom.

"Why, bless my heart, there is a flood of water there!" cried Stubbard,
peeping timidly down the steps, on which (if the light had been clear,
and that of his mind in the same condition) he might have seen the marks
of his own boots. "A flood of water, perhaps six feet deep! I could
scarcely have believed, but for that and the door, that these were not
the very vaults that we have examined. But what business has the water
there?"

"No business at all, any more than we have," Carne answered, with some
rudeness, for it did not suit him to encourage too warmly the friendship
of Captain Stubbard; "but I told you that the place becomes covered with
water whenever the ghost intends to walk. Probably there is not more
than a foot of water"--there was in fact about three inches--"and as you
are bound to carry out your duty--"

"My dear sir, I am satisfied, perfectly satisfied. Who could keep
gunpowder under water, or even in a flooded cellar? I shall have the
greatest pleasure in reporting that I searched Carne Castle--not of
course suspiciously, but narrowly, as we are bound to do, in execution
of our warrant--"

"If you would not mind looking in this direction," whispered Carne, who
could never be contented, "I think I could show you, just beyond the
murder-stone--yes, and it seems to be coming towards us, as white as a
winding-sheet; do come and look."

"No, sir, no; it is not my duty"--the Captain turned away, with his hair
upon the rise. "I was sent here to look for saltpetre, not spectres. No
officer in His Majesty's service can be expected--Bob, and Wilkins, are
you there?"

"Yes, sir, yes--we have had quite enough of this; and unless you give
the orders--"

"Here she comes, I do declare!" whispered Carne, with extraordinary
calmness.

"Bob, and Wilkins, give me one arm each. Make for daylight in close
order. You may be glad to see your grandmother, young man; but I decline
to have anything to say to her. Bob, and Wilkins, bear a hand; I feel a
little shaky in my lower timbers. Run for your lives, but don't leave
me behind. Run, lads, like the very devil!" For a groan of sepulchral
depth, and big enough to lift a granite tombstone, issued from the
vault, and wailed along the sombre archway. All the Artillerymen fled,
as if the muzzle of their biggest gun was slewed upon them, and very
soon the sound of horses' heels, urged at a perilous pace down the hill,
rang back as the