"What is the matter with this house that we
can't sleep or eat in it? We will find out. You
are sailing pretty close to the wind. That, I suppose, is the door to the cellar."
He opened the door. With revolvers drawn the two men went down the stone steps, their hearts in their throats, while the woman stood perfectly still in the middle of the room, staring after them.
In the cellar they went carefully. They heard nothing
“Come out!” they demanded while they held their revolvers ready.
They struck matches and searched the corners.
Except for themselves the cellar was empty.
Queer! Queer!" they muttered.
More afraid than if they had found something, they climbed the steps and looked at the woman who still stood in the centre of the floor, staring at them.
“Clearly," the pilot said, "we are getting a case of nerves. There is no danger here—nothing at all, except this woman who stares and stares and tells us we can't spend the night. I'm tired. I've a biscuit or two and some chocolate. We'll disturb her as little as possible. We'll sleep in the spare room, and, if you think it wise, watch, turn and turn about."
