CHAPTER VIII
It was a rusty key, and Briar-Rose was afraid that she might not be able to turn it, but to her surprise it turned quite easily. The heavy door swung inward on its ancient hinges with many a creak and groan, and she found herself in a little dark room thickly carpeted with the dust of years. From this room a winding staircase led upward, and Briar-Rose was just about to climb the stair when a sudden noise made her start back in alarm.
Whirr! There was a beating of wings, a flurry and a scuffle, and past her face flew a dark shape, with gleaming, yellow eyes. It was only an owl who was hiding in the