The steps ended with a trap-door in the ceiling, which he pushed up before him.
"Mind how you go, young gents," said he to his followers; "one at a time on them stones." The trap-door opened into a sort of passage, at the end of which was a narrow brick corkscrew staircase.
It was too dark to do anything but feel their way up; Mr Rollitt leading, and testing every step as he went along.
"Why," said Wally suddenly, and with a touch of alarm in his voice, as they were halting a moment to allow Mr Rollitt to inspect with the end of a lucifer one of the loophole windows, "why, look up there--there's a light!" They looked.

And there, struggling apparently from under a door which closed the head of the stairs, came a streak of light.
"I say--it's ghosts," said Fisher minor.

"Let's go back." "More likely it's my Alf," said Mr Rollitt.

"I know'd he was somewheres not fur off." He went up, followed at a more respectful distance than before by the boys, and pushed open the door.
They heard the sound of an exclamation within, and a noise as of some one starting to his feet.

Next moment, as the light streamed down the staircase, they heard a familiar voice say-- "Father!" "That's me, Alf, my boy; I know'd you was somewheres 'andy." "I say," said Wally, in an excited whisper to his followers, "we'd best cut back, you chaps.