While making these remarks, Blueskin contrived, by means of a chisel which he chanced to have about him, to lift up the board, and, introducing his fingers beneath it, with Jack’s assistance speedily opened it altogether, disclosing a dark hole, into which he leapt.

“Follow me, Thames,” cried Jack, dropping into the chasm.

They were now in a sort of cellar, at one end of which was a door.  It was fastened inside.  But, taking the chisel from Blueskin, Jack quickly forced back the bolt.

As they entered the room beyond, a fierce growl was heard.

“Let me go first,” said Blueskin; “the dogs know me.  Soho! boys.”  And, walking up to the animals, which were chained to the wall, they instantly recognised him, and suffered the others to pass without barking.

Groping their way through one or two dark and mouldy-smelling vaults, the party ascended a flight of steps, which brought them to the hall.  As Jack conjectured, no one was there, and, though a lamp was burning on a stand, they decided upon proceeding without it.  They then swiftly mounted the stairs, and stopped before the audience-chamber.  Applying his ear to the keyhole, Jack listened, but could detect no sound.  He, next cautiously tried the door, but found it fastened inside.

“I fear we’re too late,” he whispered to Thames.  “But, we’ll soon see.  Give me the chisel, Blueskin.”  And, dexterously applying the implement, he forced open the lock.

They then entered the room, which was perfectly dark.

“This is strange,” said Jack, under his breath.  “Sir Rowland must be gone.  And, yet, I don’t know.  The key’s in the lock, on the inner side.  Be on your guard.”

“I am so,” replied Thames, who had followed him closely.

“Shall I fetch the light, Captain?” whispered Blueskin.

“Yes,” replied Jack.  “I don’t know how it is,” he added in a low voice to Thames, as they were left alone, “but I’ve a strange foreboding of ill.  My heart fails me.  I almost wish we hadn’t come.”

As he said this, he moved forward a few paces, when, finding his feet glued to the ground by some adhesive substance, he stooped to feel what it was, but instantly withdrew his hand, with an exclamation of horror.

“God in Heaven!” he cried, “the floor is covered with blood.  Some foul murder has been committed.  The light!—­the light!”

Astounded at his cries, Thames sprang towards him.  At this moment, Blueskin appeared with the lamp, and revealed a horrible spectacle,—­the floor deluged with blood,—­various articles of furniture upset,—­papers scattered about,—­the murdered man’s cloak, trampled upon, and smeared with gore,—­his hat, crushed and similarly stained,—­his sword,—­the ensanguined cloth,—­with several other ghastly evidences of the slaughterous deed.  Further on, there were impressions of bloody footsteps along the floor.

“Sir Rowland is murdered!” cried Jack, as soon as he could find a tongue.