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Page 13
Gertrude picked herself up, declining assistance, and maintained
stoutly that she was sound in wind and limb. "If only I did not
break anything," she said, anxiously. "I came a terrible crack
against the panel here, and it seemed as if something gave as I
fell past it."
Bell bent down, in spite of Hildegarde's assurance that everything
was right, and passed her hand along the wall of the staircase.
"There is no crack," she said. "I think it is all right, Toots."
She tapped the panel critically. "The wall is hollow here," she
said. "Is this your secret chamber, Hildegarde?"
"Hollow?" cried Hildegarde. "What do you mean, Bell? I know of no
hollow place there."
"Have you ever looked for one?" Bell inquired. "Search would
reveal something in there, I am pretty sure."
Thrilled with curiosity, Hildegarde came down, and the three girls
crouched together on the narrow stair, and tapped and rapped here
and there. Beyond a doubt, one panel was hollow. What could it
mean?
Bell meditated. "What is on the other side of this place?" she
asked.
"I--don't know," said Hildegarde. "Stop a moment, though! It must
be,--yes, it is! The old chimney, the great square stack, comes
near this place. Can there be any space--"
"Then it IS a secret chamber, most likely," said Bell. "I have
heard of such things. Shall we try?"
They tried eagerly, pressing here, pushing there, but for some
time in vain. At length, as Hildegarde's strong fingers pressed
hard on one spot of moulding, she felt it quiver. There was a
faint sound, like a murmur of protest; then slowly, unwillingly,
the panel moved, obedient to the insistent fingers, and slid
aside, revealing a square opening into--the blackness of darkness.
"Oh, it's a dungeon!" cried Gertrude, starting back. "Perhaps the
floor will give way, and let us down into places with knives and
scythes. You remember 'The Dumberdene,' Bell?"
"No fear, Gertrude," said Hildegarde. "Nothing more horrible than
the dining-room is under our feet. But this,--this is very
mysterious. Can you see anything, Bell?"
"I begin to get a faint glimmer," said Bell. "Of course, if it is
a chimney-room there cannot be any particular light. Shall we
creep in? There is evidently a good deal of space."
"By all means," cried Hildegarde. "But let me go first, to bear
the brunt of any horrors there may be. Spiders I would not face,
but they must all be dead years ago."
She crept in on her hands and knees, closely followed by the two
Merryweathers. Growing accustomed to the dimness, they found
themselves in a small square chamber, high enough for them to
stand upright. The walls were smooth, and thick with dust; the
floor was carpeted with something that felt soft and close, like
an Eastern rug.
"We simply MUST have light!" cried Hildegarde. "Wait, girls! I
will bring a candle and matches."
"No! no!" cried Bell. "Wait a moment! I think I have found a
window, or something like one, if I can only get it open."
Again there was a soft, complaining sound, and then a sliding
movement; a tiny panel was pushed aside, and a feeble ray of light
stole in. The girls' faces glimmered white against the blackness.
"Something obstructs the light," said Hildegarde. "See! this is
it." She put her arm out through the little opening, and pushed
away a dense mass of vines that hung down like a thick curtain.
"That is better," she said. "Now let us see where we are."
It was a curious place, surely, to lie hidden in the heart of a
comparatively modern house. A square room, perhaps eight feet
across, neatly papered with the blue-dragon paper of Hildegarde's
own room; on the floor an old rug, faded to a soft, nameless hue,
but soft and fine. On the walls hung a few pictures, quaint little
coloured wood-cuts in gilt frames, representing ladies and
gentlemen in scant gowns and high-shouldered frock-coats. There
were two little chairs, painted blue, with roses on the backs; a
low table, and a tiny chest of drawers. The girls looked at each
other, a new light dawning in their faces.
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