At this moment there was a crash and an unearthly scream, then a thud that sounded as if it had happened in the middle of the earth. Father Donovan and I looked around in alarm, but Paddy was nowhere to be seen. Toward the wall there was a square black hole, and, rushing up to it, we knew at once what had happened. Paddy had danced a bit too heavy on an old trap-door, and the rusty bolts had broken. It had let him down into a dungeon that had no other entrance; and indeed this was a queer house entirely, with many odd nooks and corners about it, besides the disadvantage of Sir Goddard Oxenbridge tramping through the rooms in two sections.
"For the love of Heaven and all the Saints," I cried down this trap-door, "Paddy, what has happened to you?"
"Sure, sir, the house has fallen on me."
"Nothing of the kind, Paddy. The house is where it always was. Are you hurted?"
"I 'm dead and done for completely this time, sir. Sure I feel I 'm with the angels at last."
"Tut, tut, Paddy, my lad; you 've gone in the wrong direction altogether for them."
"Oh, I 'm dying, and I feel the flutter of their wings," and as he spoke two or three ugly blind bats fluttered up and butted their stupid heads against the wall.
"You 've gone in the right direction for the wrong kind of angels, Paddy; but don't be feared, they 're only bats, like them in my own tower at home, except they 're larger."
I called for Tom Peel, as he knew the place well.
