Sir Richard was leaning heavily against the outer wall, yielding to a host of melancholy reflections; his shoulder disconsolately pressing against the casement of the embrasure. Quite by chance his eyes fell upon a row of bronze griffins' heads, each occupying the center of a line of deep oaken panels, which extended along the opposite wall from the doorway through which he had entered to the end of the sealed passageway. Doubtless it was the repellant hideousness of their faces that arrested and fixed his attention. Their curled tongues protruded in a series of abhorrent grimaces that tended to fascinate the observer. The young knight singled out the head just across from him and fell to studying it minutely. He grew sensible of a boyish desire to attempt to distort his features in a manner similar to it, to which desire he finally yielded, and talked to it, moreover, as though its bronze ears were possessed of the power to take in his vain expostulations. Not infrequently does it fall out that an inane action is the parent of a most happy result. This was true in the present case, for, through looking so long and intently upon the weird head of the griffin, Sir Richard remarked that its tongue appeared to be more free within its distended maw than those of its neighbors. He stepped across and laid his finger upon it. It moved. He tugged at it. There was the sound as of the lifting of a latch, and the griffin's head, which was secured to the woodwork by a hinge, swung instantly free of the oaken panel. Within the circular recess thus disclosed appeared a brass knob, which, upon being turned, released another fastening. The entire panel then slid freely to the left, discovering a narrow, crevice-like passageway that stretched away beyond the range of the young knight's vision. More with the aim of seeking a momentary distraction from his rueful thoughts than in the hope of making any new or startling discoveries, he closed the griffin's head and clambered through the paneled opening. Upon assuring himself that there was a way of thrusting back the secret door from inside, he made everything fast and crept cautiously ahead in the direction of a row of lights, which shone dimly through openings upon his left hand and splashed against the wall to his right, thus serving vaguely to illuminate the dusty, cobwebby place. The lights proved to emanate from mere slits of windows set with many-colored glass. He peered through the first, which was sufficiently transparent to disclose to his view a room and everything that was transpiring within. The walls of this chamber were covered with the richest of hangings. Round about were scattered many massive cases filled with books. Indeed, Sir Richard noted that its furnishings were all patterned after an exquisite fashion, and arranged, withal, in an uncommonly tasteful and pleasing manner.