with a stair-turret at one angle. The stair in that turret is in a very good state of preservation—in fact, it is quite easy to climb to the top, and from the top there's a fine view of land and sea: the Keep itself is nearly a hundred feet in height. Now the inside of the Keep is completely gutted, as you'll presently see—there isn't a floor left of the five or six which were once there. And I'm sorry to say there's very little protection when one's at the top—merely a narrow ledge with a very low parapet, which in places is badly broken. Consequently, any one who climbs to the top must be very careful, or there's the danger of slipping off that ledge and falling to the bottom. Now in my opinion that's precisely what happened on Sunday afternoon. Oliver evidently got in here, climbed the stairs in the turret to enjoy the view and fell from the parapet. And why his body hasn't been found before I'll now show you."
He led the way to the extreme foot of the Keep, and to a very low-arched door, at which stood a couple of the estate labourers, one of whom carried a lighted lantern. To this man the Squire made a sign.
"Show the way," he said, in a low voice.
The man turned and descended several steps of worn and moss-covered stone which led through the archway into a dark, cellar-like place smelling strongly of damp and age. Greyle drew the attention of his companions to a heap of earth and rubbish at the entrance.
"We had to clear all that out before we could get
