(Continued from page 47.)

Colonel De Bohun, strolling along smoking his cigar, was at once beset by the whole party. He was good-natured and kind-hearted; the children were seldom afraid to take him into their councils. His appearance was always hailed with delight, and confidences and requests of all kinds were poured into his ears. In the holidays especially he was a willing victim, and could be counted on to grant all but the most impossible demands.

'What are you young monkeys plotting now?' he exclaimed as they ran up to him.

'Oh, Father!' cried Marjorie, laughing, 'you can't say we are not reasonable. I heard Mademoiselle telling Miss Leigh so. It was one day when she was out of temper, and we didn't deserve it.'

'Never mind Miss Leigh,' broke in Georgie. 'I hate her name out of the schoolroom.'

'Sh—sh!' said his father. 'I can't allow that. Miss Leigh is to be pitied for having you in the schoolroom.'

'Tell us about the ruined summer-house, Dad,' went on Georgie, eagerly. 'The door was open just now, and we all peeped in. Oh, wasn't Peet angry.'

'Hullo!' remarked the Colonel. 'Whose fault was that?'

'We found it open upon our return from boating,' Marjorie hastened to say.

'I don't like that. It shows great carelessness on the part of somebody. I hope none of you went inside?'

'It wasn't for want of the wish to,' replied Alan; 'but the door nearly banged on the top of us, so we had to scuttle as fast as we could. Peet was very rude about it. It was not our fault that the door was open, but we have every right to go in if it is.'

'No right at all,' answered the Colonel, somewhat sternly. 'The place belongs to the Moat property, and it is Aunt Betty's desire, as well as mine, that none of you children should go in. The building is very old, and every year its condition becomes more and more dangerous. There have been great falls from the roof already. I will not have you there, not any one of you. You may as well know at once that there is a passage from it to some spot—— '

'To the hole in the face of the cliff?' asked Alan, eagerly.

'It can hardly go so far, I fancy. But I am uncertain. I know, however, that a part of it leads to Aunt Betty's cellars.'

'Could we get in through the cellars?' asked Marjorie.

'Aunt Betty may have the door locked, or, perhaps, permanently closed. About that I do not know either.'

They had by this time reached the bridge over the moat, the waters of which reflected the peaceful calm of that beautiful August morning. Before them lay the Moat House, weather-beaten, dark with age, like an old soldier at rest after many battles. The original building—the one which had seen the struggles between the followers of the Red and White Roses—had been small; but succeeding generations of the Coke family had added to it, as necessity arose, with the result that the house—an irregular structure of two stories—extended over a good deal of ground, and represented every style of architecture.