“Probably nothing at all,” Philip said calmly. “But your cousin seems to be missing, and it seems likely thatshe has gone down to the dungeons.”
“Surely she would not be so foolish,” Rebecca said. “Did she not go walking with the others?”
“Yes,” Julian said, “she started to. She was walking with me. But she don’t seem to enjoy my company thesedays,” he added humbly. “She took Bartlett’s arm andthey were walking more slowly than the rest of us. Theynever did catch up.”
“But you must have noticed if they turned back,” Christopher said impatiently.
“We just assumed that they were lagging,” Julian said, “but when we turned back, we did not meet them at all.”
“Would you not have seen them, Philip, if they hadcome to the dungeon steps?” Rebecca asked.
“Not necessarily,” he replied. “We were sitting out of the wind over there, and the entry way here would behidden from view.”
“I am sure they must have gone down,” Ellen said. “Harriet would not have given in so meekly when she hadher heart set so on going, and Mr. Bartlett is so obligingthat he would find it hard to say no to her.”
“They should be up by now,” Christopher said uneasily. “I had better go down and see what is happening.”
“Oh, please do not,” Primrose pleaded. “Mr. Carver has already gone down. You will all be tripping over oneanother if you go too.”
They stood around uneasily for a few minutes, peering ineffectually into the darkness that quickly swallowed thenarrow winding stone steps at the top of the spiral. FinallyJulian made an impatient gesture and announced his intention of going down.
“No, Jule, I’ll go,” Christopher said. “No offense, old man, but I am stronger than you to help if anyone is hurt.If we just had a light it would help. The dungeons themselves, of course, are lit faintly by a small opening ontothe hill, but the staircase is infernally dark, if memoryserves me right.”
He disappeared from sight after pressing himself against the stone wall on the outer edge of the steps. Rebeccafound herself clinging to Philip’s arm and leaning quiteheavily on him. There was a ringing in her ears. Shethought she might faint.
Fortunately for the anxious group in the courtyard, the wait was not a long one. Christopher was the first one tocome into view again. Behind him came Mr. Carver, hisface glistening with perspiration, carrying Harriet in hisarms. Behind them came Mr. Bartlett.
Everyone spoke at once.
“Harriet, are you all right?”
“What happened?”
“Where did you find her?”
“Did she fall?”
“Did she faint?”
“Someone fetch her some water.”
“Bring a blanket. She must be cold.”
“I knew something like this would happen if you insisted on going down there, Harriet.”
Everyone talked; no one listened.
Harriet said nothing. She was looking rather pale and disheveled. As soon as they were safely clear of the steps,Mr. Carver stooped down and placed her on the grass.
“One of the steps crumbled under her,” Mr. Bartlett explained. “Fortunately it was almost at the bottom. Shehas sprained an ankle, I believe. But I was having adeuced hard time getting her back up again.”
“Nothing for it but to pick her up and carry her,” Mr. Carver said. He was wiping his face with a large linenhandkerchief.
“I was unwilling to take the risk,” Mr. Bartlett said. “If I had slipped with Miss Shaw in my arms, I might havekilled her.”
“Not t’mention yourself,” Mr. Carver mumbled into his shirtffont.
“It seemed safer to walk beside her and encourage her to climb slowly,” Mr. Bartlett said. His eyes were steely,his lips thin. “Though it was very dangerous to have toclimb the narrow part of the steps myself. Of course, itwas very heroic to climb to the top with the lady in yourarms, Carver.”
