Cautiously, and leaning well upon the stout baluster, he began the descent.

Kenneth followed him mechanically, with white face and a feeling of suffocation in his throat.
They gained the corner, and turning, they began what was truly the perilous part of their journey.

Not more than a dozen steps were there; but at the bottom stood the guardroom door, and through the chink of its opening a shaft of light fell upon the nethermost step.

Once a stair creaked, and to their quickened senses it sounded like a pistol-shot.

As loud to Crispin sounded the indrawn breath of apprehension from Kenneth that followed it.