Gaston was willing enough to believe this; for though he feared no human foe, he was by no means free from the superstitious terrors of the age, and it needed all his coolness of head, as well as all his confidence in the righteousness of his cause, to keep his heart from fluttering with fear as they stepped along beneath the gloom of the trees, which even when not in leaf cast dense shadows around them.  It was in truth a weird spot:  owls hooted dismally about them, bats flitted here and there in their erratic flight, and sometimes almost brushed the faces of the boys with their clammy wings.  The strange noises always to be heard in a wood at night assailed their ears, and mingled with the quick beating of their own hearts; whilst from time to time a long unearthly wail, which seemed to proceed from the interior of the house itself, filled them with an unreasoning sense of terror that they would not confess even to themselves.

“It is like the wail of a lost spirit,” whispered Raymond at the third repetition of the cry.  “Brother, let us say a prayer, and go forward in the power of the Blessed Virgin and her Holy Son.”

For a moment the brothers knelt in prayer, as the priest had bidden them if heart or spirit quailed.

Then rising, strengthened and supported, they looked carefully about them, and Gaston, grasping his brother by the arm, pointed through the trees and said: 

“The water, the water! sure I see a gleam of moonlight upon it!  We have reached the fish ponds, I verily believe!  Now for the secret way to the house!”

It was true enough.  A few steps brought them to the margin of a large piece of water, which was something between a lake and a series of fish ponds, such as are so often seen by old houses.  Once the lake had plainly been larger, but had partially drained away, and was now confined to various levels by means of a rude dam and a sort of gate like that of a modern lock.  Still the boys could trace a likeness to the lake of their mother’s oft-told tale, and by instinct they both turned to the right as they reached the margin of the water, and threaded their way through the coarse and tangled sedges, decaying in the winter’s cold, till they reached a spot where brushwood grew down to the very edge of the water, and the bank rose steep and high above their heads.

Gaston was a step in advance, Raymond following at his heels, both keenly eager over the quest.  An exclamation from the leader soon showed that something had been discovered, and the next minute he had drawn aside the sweeping branches of a great willow, and revealed a dark opening in the bank, around which the giant roots seemed to form a protecting arch.

“This is the place,” he said, in a muffled whisper.  “Raymond, hast thou the wherewithal to kindle the torch?”

The boys had not come unprovided with such things as were likely to prove needful for their search, and though it was a matter of some time to obtain a light, they were skilful and well used to the process, and soon their torch was kindled and they were treading with cautious steps the intricacies of the long and tortuous passage which plainly led straight to the house.