For
Ricky stumbled over something which clinked dully. And when Val used the
flash they looked down upon a telltale length of chain ending in an iron
ring, its other end soldered into the wall.
"Val," Ricky's voice quavered, "did--did they keep people here?"
"Slaves, perhaps," her brother answered soberly and shoved the rusting
metal aside with his foot. But there were two other chains hanging from
the wall, speaking of past horrors of which he did not care to think.
And then as their light picked out these damning testimonials, Val
thought that the Ralestones, for all their pride and fine, brave airs,
had been only pirates after all, akin to those whom they were now
hunting through the dark.
There was a low arched doorway of brick on the right side of the room,
and this they passed through. Beyond were three broad stone steps, worn
a little on the treads, one cracked clear across. These led to a wide
landing paved with brick. Here the walls were brick as well. Ricky
touched one involuntarily and drew back her hand with a little
exclamation of disgust. She wiped her palm vigorously on the wet surface
of her cape.
Everywhere was the smell of rot and slow, vile decay. In spite of its
historical associations, decided Val, this vault should be sealed
forever from the daylight and left to the sole occupancy of those
nameless things which creep in its dark.
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