"All this proves, first, the importance which they attach to Steinweg and their fear of what he may reveal; secondly, that a regular plot is being hatched around Mrs. Kesselbach; thirdly, that I have no time to lose, for the plot is ripe." "Very well," said Gourel, "but one thing remains unexplained. How was Gertrude able to leave the garden in which we now are and to enter it again, unknown to the porter and his wife?" "Through a secret passage which the rogues must have contrived to make quite recently." "And which would end, no doubt," said Gourel, "in Mrs. Kesselbach's house." "Yes, perhaps," said M. Lenormand, "perhaps . . . But I have another idea." They followed the circuit of the wall. It was a bright night; and, though their two forms were hardly distinguishable, they themselves could see enough to examine the stones of the walls and to convince themselves that no breach, however skilful, had been effected. "A ladder, very likely?" suggested Gourel. "No, because Gertrude is able to get out in broad daylight. A communication of the kind I mean can evidently not end out of doors. The entrance must be concealed by some building already in existence." "There are only the four garden-houses," objected Gourel, "and they are all inhabited." "I beg your pardon: the third, the Pavillon Hortense, is not inhabited." "Who told you so?" "The porter. Mrs. Kesselbach hired this house, which is near her own, for fear of the noise. Who knows but that, in so doing, she acted under Gertrude's influence?" He walked round the house in question. The shutters were closed. He lifted the latch of the door, on the off-chance; the door opened. "Ah, Gourel, I think we've struck it! Let's go in. Light your lantern. . . . Oh, the hall. . . . the drawing-room . . . the dining-room . . . that's no use. There must be a basement, as the kitchen is not on this floor." "This way, chief . . . the kitchen-stairs are here." They went down into a rather large kitchen, crammed full of wicker-work garden-chairs and flower-stands. Beside it was a wash-house, which also served as a cellar, and which presented the same untidy sight of objects piled one on the top of the other. "What is that shiny thing down there, chief?" Gourel stooped and picked up a brass pin with a head made of an imitation pearl. "The pearl is quite bright still," said M. Lenormand, "which it would not be if it had been lying in this cellar long. Gertrude passed this way, Gourel." Gourel began to demolish a great stack of empty wine-casks, writing desks and old rickety tables. "You are wasting your time," said M. Lenormand. "If that is the way out, how would she have time first to move all those things and then to replace them behind her? Look, here is a shutter out of use, which has no valid reason for being fastened to the wall by that nail. Draw it back."