"You know this house well--did you ever hear of secret passages in it?"
"I have heard it whispered in gossip," he answered, "that such were here in the old Indian days. Why?"
"Because it is true. The girl hid me here from Grant. And that is where we will find her. The opening is there by the false chimney, but I have no conception of how it works; she made me turn my back while she operated the mechanism."
He stooped down, and began search along the fireplace, and I joined him. Together our hands felt over every inch of surface. There was no response, not even a crack to guide us. At last he glanced aside, and our eyes met.
"Who knew of this beside Claire?" he asked.
"Eric and the servant Swanson. She told me she and her brother discovered it by accident through reading an old memoranda."
"And the Colonel is not aware of its existence?"
"I understood not. Do you know if the boy lives?"
He left the room, and I heard his voice calling down the stairs, but did not distinguish the words of reply. I was still on my knees when he returned.
"He is alive, but unconscious, Lawrence. Do you consider it impossible for her to escape from here alone, providing she took refuge in this place?"
"I could find no opening, except underground, and that is blocked now." I shuddered at the thought. "Besides, she must be in utter darkness, for I used all the candles."
"Then we must get axes, and cut our way in. Wait here, and I will bring up some of the men."
I straightened up as he left the room, and my eyes looked into a small mirror above the open grate. Good Heavens! Could that be my reflection! Bareheaded, my face streaked with blood and dirt, my coat rags, my shirt ripped to the waist. I scarcely looked human. In sudden burst of anger I reached out and gripped the mirror, jerking it savagely. Then I sprang back. Slowly, with a faint click of the mechanism, the mantel-place was swinging open.
I could scarcely believe my eyes as the mantel swung slowly outward, revealing the black hole beyond. I glanced about helplessly, and sprang to the door of the room to call back Farrell. He was not in the upper hall, but as my eyes swept its length I remembered a half-burned candle in the chamber opposite. By the time I returned with it lighted, the mantel had turned on its pivot, leaving the way clear. The narrow stair was vacant, stretching down into the black depths. I listened, my heart throbbing, but no sound came from below. Could she be there? Was there any other secret passage by which she could have disappeared? I shuddered at memory of what it meant to be shut up in that dismal hole, without the companionship of light. Fearful of some accident I paused long enough to wedge a heavy piece of furniture in the opening, and then, shading the bit of candle, began groping my way down. I had reached the lower floor before the flickering yellow rays revealed any evidence of her presence. Then I saw a girl lying head down upon the table. My hand touched her arm before she moved, but then she faced me, wild-eyed, the pistol gleaming in the candle-light.