Whence arose this bizarre—this utterly inexplicable—sound? Rising hastily to my feet, I endeavored to ascertain its origin. From its intensely muffled quality, it appeared to be emanating from some subterranean source, deep within the interior of the devastated manse. By now, the clouds had thoroughly dispersed, and the moon cast an unobstructed glow on my surroundings. Proceeding by its light, I picked my way cautiously through the rubble and debris of the incinerated building, guided by the low, scarcely audible melody. All at once, the singing ceased! I paused in my steps, expecting it to resume at any moment. After the lapse of several moments—the silence having persisted—I slowly moved forward, keeping my ears fully open for the sound.

I had not taken more than a few steps when I halted abruptly. Several yards ahead of me, a large rectangular hole gaped in the blackened flooring-stones. By the luminous moonlight, I could perceive a series of well-worn steps leading downward into utter darkness. Clearly, I had stumbled upon the head of a staircase that descended into the basement of the manse. Cautiously approaching this opening, I stood at its brink and, bending an ear toward the stairwell, listened attentively. I could detect nothing, however, but a complete and tomb-like silence. Had the vague, uncanny singing been a mere figment of my tired and over-wrought imagination? No! I had heard the noise, however faint. I was convinced, moreover, that I had discovered its ultimate source: it had issued from the very bowels of the hollow, ruined manse.

For several minutes, I remained in a state of paralyzed indecision. What course of action should I now pursue? My prudent self urged me to await the return of my comrade before undertaking any further explorations. But a contrary impulse—born of both intense curiosity and an overpowering sense of inescapable necessity or fate—seemed to urge me to proceed without delay. It was to this latter impulse that—after a brief period of intense inward struggle and debate—I ultimately yielded.

Making my way back to the campfire, I hastily contrived a torch from a stick of wood and a piece of the black velvet tapestry that Crockett had managed to procure. I enkindled the fabric-wrapped end by dipping it into the flames. Then, with the blazing flambeau held aloft in my uninjured hand, I returned to the head of the stairwell.

Steeling my resolve, I carefully made my way down the winding stone steps until I arrived at the foot of the descent. In the intensely oppressive atmosphere of the cellar, my torch gave off only a feeble glow. Pausing for a moment, I waited until my vision had grown accustomed to the enveloping gloom of my surroundings. All at once, I emitted a sharp, involuntary gasp. Never shall I forget the sensations of awe, horror, and confusion that overwhelmed me as I stood and gazed about.