The stairs are crooked and narrow.

Gently with your light, friend.

You swing it like a censer.' Hugh, who had already reached the turret, held it more steadily, and ascended first, turning round from time to time to shed his light downward on the steps.

Mr Haredale following next, eyed his lowering face with no great favour; and Hugh, looking down on him, returned his glances with interest, as they climbed the winding stairs.
It terminated in a little ante-room adjoining that from which they had seen the light.

Mr Haredale entered first, and led the way through it into the latter chamber, where he seated himself at a writing-table from which he had risen when they had rung the bell.
'Come in,' he said, beckoning to old John, who remained bowing at the door.