"There was an ald empty press against the wall then, and shoving it
aside, sure enough there was the tracing of a door in the wainscot,
and a keyhole stopped with wood, and planed across as smooth as the
rest, and the joining of the door all stopped wi' putty the colour o'
yak, and, but for the hinges that showed a bit when the press was
shoved aside, ye would not consayt there was a door there at all.
"'Ha!' says he, wi' a queer smile, 'this looks like it.'
"It took some minutes wi' a small chisel and hammer to pick the bit o'
wood out o' the keyhole. The key fitted, sure enough, and, wi' a
strang twist and a lang skreak, the boult went back and he pulled the
door open.
"There was another door inside, stranger than the first, but the lacks
was gone, and it opened easy. Inside was a narrow floor and walls and
vault o' brick; we could not see what was in it, for 'twas dark as
pick.
"When my aunt had lighted the candle, the squire held it up and stept
in.
"My aunt stood on tiptoe tryin' to look over his shouther, and I did
na see nout.
"'Ha! ha!' says the squire, steppin' backward. 'What's that? Gi' ma
the poker--quick!' says he to my aunt. And as she went to the hearth I
peeps beside his arm, and I sid squat down in the far corner a monkey
or a flayin' on the chest, or else the maist shrivelled up, wizzened
ald wife that ever was sen on yearth.
"'By Jen!' says my aunt, as puttin' the poker in his hand, she keeked
by his shouther, and sid the ill-favoured thing, 'hae a care, sir,
what ye're doin'.
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