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which was not obvious at first glance, but which became more and more noticeable as they skirted the grounds and moved round towards the low hill at the rear of the house.
    “This place is more than enough to give me the shivers,” muttered the doctor. His deep voice rumbled from the depths of his chest and he pulled the collar of his coat up higher around his neck.
    “And yet young Belstead chose to stay here rather than go away and enjoy himself with all that money he inherited,” said Calder tightly. “I wish I knew why he did that. I’m certain that if we had the answer to that we might know what’s behind all this.”
    They moved out of the trees into the open. There was more of the yellow moonlight here but before them, where a narrow, muddy path led up the side of the hill, lay the dark vault where the Belstead family and their servants rested.
    Instantly, they were more than ever aware of the silence. It seemed to shriek at their ears far more loudly and insistently than any sound. An almost tangible thing that was oppressive and heavy. Calder felt the sudden, almost physical impact of it the moment he stepped out of the trees and stood in the cold, musty air staring about him, rising tension in his mind.
    His arms and legs felt numb and strange as if they were no longer a part of him.
    The narrow pathway, muddy and running with moisture even though there had been no rain that day, led them up the side of the hill to the stone vault at the top. In daylight, it would have looked a morbid and dreadful place, but with that eerie moonlight falling upon it and faint muttering of the thunder in the distance, it brought a knot of fear to Calder’s stomach as he stood a few feet away, unable to move any closer, while Woodbridge edged his way forward, his feet sliding on the smooth stone that surrounded the place. It had a look of age about it. There was a slimy kind of moss growing thickly on the walls, but it seemed significant that no other type of vegetation grew to within several feet of the low building. Almost, he thought inwardly, as if the other plants were deliberately shunning it.
    He tried to pull himself together. There he went again, letting his imagination run away with him. There was nothing here they had to be afraid of, he told himself half-angrily. Those who rested inside this stone vault had been dead for many years and any idea that the dead could come back and harm the living was ludicrous. All the same, he began to wish that he had not been so keen on coming with the other; and that he had accepted the chance back there at the gate and stayed behind, leaving the doctor to come out here on his own if he wanted to. After all, it had been Woodbridge’s own idea to come to this godforsaken place and hunt around. What he expected to find here, Calder did not know. Certainly, it seemed unlikely that he would find the answers to any of the things that had been troubling him.
    For a moment, outlined against the moonlight, Woodbridge stood in front of the iron gate which led into the vault. Calder heard his sudden exclamation and in spite of himself, went forward.
    “What is it?” His voice seemed to rattled eerily from the rising stone walls.
    “The gate—it’s open.”
    “Probably Belstead comes here sometimes.” Calder suggested. There was a strange dryness in his throat. “Knowing him, it’s hard to say what he gets up to at times.”
    “No, it isn’t that.” The doctor’s cold voice was muffled as he lowered his head. For a moment, there was a flash of light in the dimness as he flicked on the torch and flashed the beam in front of him. “It’s been broken open—and from the inside! See—the lock is still on the end of the chain.”
    “But that’s impossible.” He forced the words out through lips that were trembling a little. “I mean—” He wanted to enlarge on what he had said, but Woodbridge had flashed the beam of the powerful torch on to the ground and they both saw,