“Oh, do not talk like that, Aline, you do not know how creepy you make me feel. Come.” “The room looks very melancholy now,” Audry said when they had descended. “I always associate this room with Master Menstrie. It seems very curious that we should discover him and the room at the same time.” “It is very cold down here,” said Audry, “let us light a fire. That will do something to make the place more cheerful.” “Are there any fires lit upstairs?” asked Aline, pointing to the inscription over the fireplace. “Oh, yes,” said Audry, “several, it is getting nearly winter.” So the children lit a fire and occupied themselves in giving the room a thorough cleaning. “I wish we could open this chest,” Audry exclaimed, as she was dusting the great iron coffer. “It is very strange that it has no lock.” Aline came and bent over it too. But although they pressed here and pushed there and peered everywhere, they only succeeded in getting their hair caught on a rivet, so that both children were fastened to each other and to the chest at the same time. So with much laughter they abandoned the attempt for that day. “You know it’s my belief,” said Audry, “that that old iron coffer is the most important thing in this room; people don’t put great heavy iron coffers into secret rooms unless they have secrets inside.” “But the secrets might have been taken away,” said Aline, “although I admit that it does not look likely. The room seems to have been unused for so very long. But do you remember, Audry, we never finished reading that book after all. Why should it not tell us about the chest?” “I expect it would; where is the book?” “It is in this room, I think, in one of the bookcases.” Aline rose to fetch it, but the book was not to be found. The children hunted all round the room, but they could not find it. They then went upstairs to their own room, but still it was nowhere to be seen. They looked at each other aghast. “Oh, whatever shall we do?” said Aline. “Suppose that they find it, then our secret room will be no longer safe.” “But they may not be able to read it,” Audry suggested. “Oh, they are sure to find out, for they will have the parchment.” “The parchment,” echoed Audry, “the parchment; then you will not be able to write any more letters to Master Menstrie. Why, you must have had it last night when you read his letter.” “So I must,” said Aline. “Well, that proves it cannot be out of the house, for I have not been out except to see Walter Margrove go, and I am certain I did not take it with me then. So it must be somewhere here in our room.” They turned everything off the bed, they looked in the ambry, they lifted the movable plank and looked under the sliding panel, but the book had absolutely disappeared. “It is very mysterious; do you suppose any one has been in and taken it, Aline; it is very small and thin, it is true, but it could not actually vanish.”