Flushed with apparent success, I looked up at the walls on either side
of me. They were gray with paint and presented one unbroken surface from
base-board to ceiling, save where the two doorways opened, one into the
library, the other into the dining-room. Had the flying presence escaped
by either of these two rooms? I knew the dining-room well. I had had
several opportunities for studying its details. I thought I knew the
library; besides, Mr. Searles had been in the library when the shape
advanced upon him from the hall,--a fact eliminating that room as a
possible source of approach! What then was left? The recess which had
once served as an old-time entrance. Ah, that gave promise of something.
It projected directly toward where the adjacent walls had once held two
doors, between which any sort of mischief might take place. Say that the
Misses Quinlan had retained certain keys. What easier than for one of
them to enter the outer door, strike a light, open the inner one and
flash this light up through the house till steps or voices warned her of
an aroused family, when she had only to reclose the inside door, put out
the light and escape by the outer one.
But alas! at this point I remembered that this, as well as all other
outside doors, had invariably been protected by bolt, and that these
bolts had never been found disturbed. Veritably I was busying myself for
nothing over this old vestibule. Yet before I left it I gave it another
glance; satisfied myself that its walls were solid; in fact, built of
brick like the house. This on two sides; the door occupied the third and
showed the same unbroken coat of thick, old paint, its surface barely
hidden by the cabinet placed at right angles to it. Enough of it,
however, remained exposed to view to give me an opportunity of admiring
its sturdy panels and its old-fashioned lock. The door was further
secured by heavy pivoted bars extending from jamb to jamb. An
egg-and-dart molding extended all around the casing, where the inner
door had once hung. All solid, all very old-fashioned, but totally
unsuggestive of any reasonable solution of the mystery I had vaguely
hoped it to explain. Was I mistaken in my theory, and must I look
elsewhere for what I still honestly expected to find? Undoubtedly; and
with this decision I turned to leave the recess, when a sensation, of
too peculiar a nature for me readily to understand it, caused me to stop
short, and look down at my feet in an inquiring way and afterward to
lift the rug on which I had been standing and take a look at the floor
underneath. It was covered with carpet, like the rest of the hall,
but this did not disguise the fact that it sloped a trifle toward the
outside wall. Had not the idea been preposterous, I should have said
that the weight of the cabinet had been too much for it, causing it to
sag quite perceptibly at the base-board. But this seemed too improbable
to consider. Old as the house was, it was not old enough for its beams
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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