It was duly admired, and they made their way from it again to the dining-room. They also took a quick glance at the servants’ premises, where Sadie’s sharp eyes took in most of the details.
"Now--upstairs," said Isla with evident relief. "And on the first landing, where the little door opens, just here is the dungeon-room. It has a trap-door and a stair going right down from it."
Sadie’s eyes grew positively wide with excitement.
"A dungeon-room," she repeated again, in an awe-stricken whisper. "And where does this stair lead to? Can anyone go down?"
"Oh, yes. It leads to the dungeon, and there used to be--about the fourteenth century--a passage from it going both ways, one to Killin and down to the Earn, but it has not been opened for hundreds of years."
"Do you hear that, Hylton Rosmead? The fourteenth century! Where were we then? How do you see down?"
She stooped to pull back the faded strip of home-made carpet, and so revealed the rusty hinges set level with the floor.
Rosmead stooped also and, with one swing of his strong arm, he raised the heavy door, so that they could look into the depths beneath. A curious odour met them, and Sadie, her imagination now wrought to a high pitch, fancied she heard mysterious sounds ascending from below.
"I should love to go down, but we can explore later when we come to live here. Fancy a place like this right in the middle of one’s house and stairs and passages leading all over the country! It’s positively creepy, but most fascinating. And a room with a bed in it too! I wonder whether I should get any sleep in it if I took it for my own?"
"It is rather small, isn’t it?" said Isla with a smile. "It was used as a sentinel’s or guard’s room chiefly in the old days, I fancy. Now, will you come up and see the bedrooms?"
"I’ll take a turn outside if I may," said Rosmead. "My sister will accompany you, Miss Mackinnon. I’m perfectly satisfied with what I have seen."
"Can you find your way? There are two staircases, but you can get out by either," said Isla, and they stood just a moment on the narrow landing till Rosmead had found his way out.
He passed out into the mellow sunshine of the afternoon with a sense of relief. The old house saddened him. It seemed to be peopled with dead hopes and with old memories and to have no kinship with the warm and happy life of men.