Here was she, a great girl, almost a woman, cowering and shivering, while a tiny puppy, who had hardly any brains at all, was eager to go on.

She patted the dog, and "taking herself by both ears," as she expressed it afterwards, walked steadily forward, pushed aside the dense tangle of vines and bushes, and stooped down to enter the black hole which led into the vault of the mill.
A rush of cold air met her, and beat against her face like a black wing that brushed it.

It had a mouldy smell.

Holding up the lantern, Hildegarde crept as best she could through the narrow opening.

A gruesome place it was in which she found herself.