He had listened to all the talk about ghosts carried on by the other fellows, with more or less interest and amusement, for Hugh refused to believe in spook manifestations.  At the same time he admitted that his heart was fluttering at a much more rapid gait than customary when he started toward one of the doors of the room, using the little electric torch to light his way.

If any one could have read the thoughts that were surging through the boy’s excited mind, they would perhaps have been found to range about in this manner: 

“Ghosts, eh?  Well, I’ve always said there never existed any, and perhaps I’ll have a chance right now to prove it, one way or the other.  A queer kind of a hobgoblin that must be to keep whimpering like a baby, and then fluttering to beat the band.  But what in the wide world can it all mean?  That’s what I reckon on finding out, given half a chance.”

He had reached the door by that time.  Billy had seen to it that the bolt was shot into its socket before he lay down.  More than that, he had even gone to the trouble to fill the keyhole full of crumpled paper, remembering that jibe on the part of one of his chums to the effect that spirits can “ooze like smoke” through even such small apertures.

Hugh had been wise enough to pick up a handy club before starting forth upon his mission of investigation.  He did not anticipate finding a chance to make use of it, but when a man insures his house against fire he really does not expect it to be burned down.  Hugh wanted to be on the safe side, that was all.

Just at that point the boy, was influenced to turn around and cast the light of his torch upon the forms of his four comrades swathed in their coverings.  Not one of them moved, even in the slightest degree, so that, if Hugh was half contemplating inviting company, he found no encouragement there.

Gritting his teeth, the boy calmly drew back the bolt, softly opened the massive door, slipped boldly through the aperture, and then as deftly closed the door behind him.

Standing there in the great hall he listened intently, meanwhile keeping his light turning this way and that in order to see if anything moved.  Perhaps, in the days when Judge Randall lived in his romantic castle, this massive hall had been decorated after the usual custom of feudal times.  Hugh could easily imagine shining suits of armor standing grimly in, the corners, like sentries on guard.  He had detected marks on the walls betraying the fact that at some time they had borne all manner of relics of long-past age of chivalry, so that the illusion might be complete.  But now they stood there bare and cold, and a chilly draught came down from the empty regions above that made the boy shiver.

Then he heard the strange sounds again.  They were clearer now than before.

“One thing certain,” muttered Hugh, between his set teeth, “whatever makes that noise it comes from up above.  And the thing for me to do is to climb the stairs; so here goes.”