They had found what they thought was a suitable rope and having tied it fast to the iron ring of the trap-door they threw it down into the dungeon.

“Come on, Duncan,” Catriona urged, “show Mr Fletcher the way. Hand over hand.”

But the old gamekeeper demurred.

“Go on, Duncan, put some beef into it and you’ll be up in a jiffy,” Mary promised.

But the old gamekeeper still demurred.

“Look here, I’ll show you how easy it is,” Catriona volunteered.

She gripped the rope and dived down through the opening like the heroine of the poem Curfew shall not ring to-night.

“Oh, good-oh, Catriona!” Mary commented. “I’m coming too.”

Whether it was the extra swing her weight gave to the rope or whether it was the removal of that weight from the trap-door that caused it to rise from the floor and shut itself with a bang might be hard to say. But that is what it did. Catriona was nearly at the bottom when the rope snapped, but even so she winded Mr Fletcher for the second time that evening, only to be winded herself by Mary who had farther to fall.

“I’m awfully sorry, Mr Fletcher,” said Catriona when she had recovered her breath. “Hope I didn’t hurt you. It was the fault of that goof, Mary.”

“No, no, I’m—ah—hah—hah—hah—quite—ah—hah—all right—ah—hah—hah—just a little winded—ah—hah—that’s all.”

“I hope you didn’t hurt yourself, Miss Mary,” the old keeper enquired anxiously, for Mary was his favourite.

“Mary hurt herself!” Catriona growled indignantly. “Why, she fell on Mr Fletcher and me.”

“I’m all right,” said Mary. “But where’s the torch? Wow! it’s smashed. Strike a light, somebody.”

“I’ve only one match left,” Duncan said.

“You would have,” Catriona growled.

However, that solitary match just managed to light the smoky lantern when it had been released from the sack which had extinguished it.

“The more I think of it the more of an absolute coot you are, Mary,” her sister declared. “We should have had a tophole score over the others if you hadn’t muffed it by barging in with that rope.”

“Never mind,” said the chaplain, who had recovered from the peine forte et dure of both sisters being on top of him at once. “Never mind, you both did your best.”

“If Duncan hadn’t funked climbing up the rope,” said Mary, “it would have been perfectly good-oh. We could have hauled Mr Fletcher up between us.”

“I’m very thankful I did not climb up the rope,” said Duncan. “I might never have fallen on Mr Fletcher at all, and that would not have been very enjoyable. I wonder what they’re doing outside now.”