“What is that you say? Speak out, my boy.”,
As he pondered his problem, his fingers had been playing with the loose button that had been in his pocket, and now it slipped from his hand and rolled off on the dirt floor toward the center of the room. Rather aimlessly, he reached out and groped for it. As his hand swept the floor it came in contact with a fine, floury substance. “Ashes,” was his thought. An inch or so farther and he gripped an object that he felt to be a half burned stick of wood.,
As he surveyed the place in silent wonder, a sullen groan arose from beneath the spot where he stood. His blood ran cold at the sound, but silence returning, and continuing unbroken, he attributed his alarm to the illusion of a fancy, which terror had impregnated. He made another effort to force the door, when a groan was repeated more hollow, and more dreadful than the first. At this moment all his courage forsook him; he quitted the door, and hastened to the stair-case, which he ascended almost breathless with terror..
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