Darke Darrell, the Boy Detective — page 72: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

DARKE DARRELL. 63 CHAPTER XII. THE FIGURES. Darke, who was as agile as a cat, landed upon his feet, but, so sudden and unexpected was his fall, that it took him half a minute to collect his scattered senses. He saw the trap-door close above him; he listened, but heard no laugh of exultation from those above, nor any scream from Leotine, to indicate that she had been igno- rant of the treachery. To his surprise he saw that the room into which he had fallen was not a loathsome dungeon, nor wrapped in im- penetrable darkness. There was a grated orifice, set high up in the wall, which afforded considerable light, especially at that hour in the morning. Darke knew that the orifice overlooked the yard, and that there was no chance of escape in that direction. The floor of the room was covered with matting; it con- tained no furniture except an iron table, which he soon ascertained to be chained to the wall. On the table stood a lamp, but it contained no oil. A flight of low stone steps led to a massive door. Darke ascended the steps and tried the door, but found it securely fastened. There was no other door visible, indicating that there was no communication with the main building save through the trap in the ceiling, and that struck Darke as rather - odd. «Tt is a cubby hole, and I am glad there are no dead - men’s bones scattered around,” argued Darke, as he seated (E(0) comilcbooks