And before the light had well time to fall on
things, I knew that I was underneath the church, and that this chamber
was none other than the Mohune Vault.
It was a large room, much larger, I think, than the schoolroom where Mr.
Glennie taught us, but not near so high, being only some nine feet from
floor to roof. I say floor, though in reality there was none, but only a
bottom of soft wet sand; and when I stepped down on to it my heart beat
very fiercely, for I remembered what manner of place I was entering, and
the dreadful sounds which had issued from it that Sunday morning so short
a time before. I satisfied myself that there was nothing evil lurking in
the dark corners, or nothing visible at least, and then began to look
round and note what was to be seen. Walls and roof were stone, and at one
end was a staircase closed by a great flat stone at top--that same stone
which I had often seen, with a ring in it, in the floor of the church
above. All round the sides were stone shelves, with divisions between
them like great bookcases, but instead of books there were the coffins of
the Mohunes. Yet these lay only at the sides, and in the middle of the
room was something very different, for here were stacked scores of casks,
kegs, and runlets, from a storage butt that might hold thirty gallons
down to a breaker that held only one.
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