But that night, the brooding invisible presences of the carved panels, the storied tapestries, affected even the hard-headed Master Ambrose. It was as if that silent population was drawing him, by an irresistible magnetism, into the zone of its influence. If only they would speak, or begin to move about--those silent rooted things! It was like walking through a wood by moonlight. Then Master Nathaniel stood still. "This, I think, must roughly be the spot where Marigold found the hollow panel," he whispered, and began tapping cautiously along the wainscotting. A few minutes later, he said in an excited whisper, "Ambrose! Ambrose! I've got it. Hark! You can hear, can't you? It's as hollow as a drum." "Suffering Cats! I believe you're right," whispered back Master Ambrose, beginning, in spite of himself, to be a little infected with Nat's absurd excitement. And then, yielding to pressure, the panel slid back, and by the light of their lanthorns they could see a twisting staircase. For a few seconds they gazed at each other in silent triumph. Then Master Nathaniel chuckled, and said, "Well, here goes--down with our buckets into the well! And may we draw up something better than an old shoe or a rotten walnut!" and straightway he began to descend the stairs, Master Ambrose valiantly following him. The stairs went twisting down, down--into the very bowels of the earth, it seemed. But at long last they found themselves in what looked like a long tunnel. "Tally ho! Tally ho!" whispered Master Nathaniel, laughing for sheer joy of adventure, "take it at a gallop, Brosie; it may lead to an open glade ... and the deer at bay!" And digging him in the ribs, he added, "Better sport than moth hunting, eh?" which showed the completeness of their reconciliation. Nevertheless, it was very slowly, and feeling each step, that they groped their way along the tunnel. After what seemed a very long time Master Nathaniel halted, and whispered over his shoulder, "Here we are. There's a door ... oh, thunder and confusion on it for ever! It's locked." And, beside himself with irritation at this unlooked-for obstacle, he began to batter and kick at the door, like one demented. He paused a minute for breath, and from the inside could be heard a shrill female voice demanding the pass-word. "Pass-word?" bellowed back Master Nathaniel, "by the Sun, Moon and Stars and the Golden Apples of the West, what...." But before he could finish his sentence, the door was opened from the other side, and they marched into a low, square room, which was lit by one lamp swinging by a chain from the ceiling--for which there seemed but little need, for a light more brilliant than that of any lamp, and yet as soft as moonlight, seemed to issue from the marvelous tapestries that hung on the walls.