"Now, what the dickens...?" began Cleek, and stopped.
Dollops surveyed it with his head on one side.
"Seems ter me, sir," he began, after a pause, "that this yere's the
genuyne article. One of them old passages what people like King Charles
and Bloody Mary an' a few other of them celebrities you sees at Madame
Tussord's any day in the week, used to 'ide in when things were a-gettin'
too 'ot fer 'em. That's what this is."
"Your history's a bit rocky, but your ideas are all right," returned
Cleek with a little smile, as he stood looking up at the square of black
oak above them. "I believe you're right, Dollops. It must have given the
later arrivals a big start in that tunnelling business, or else they've
been at it, or both. There must be years' work in this system of
passageways. It is marvelous. But if it's a genuine old secret passage,
those stairs will probably lead up into a house, and--let's try 'em. If
the house they lead into is the one I think it is.... Well, we'll be
unravelling the rest of this riddle before the night is out!"
So saying, he fairly leapt up the little flight of stone stairs, and then
let his fingers glide over the smooth polished face of the oak door,
pushing, probing, pressing it, a frown puckering his brows.
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