“Rather. But it’s only a mouldy one. Supposed to lead from Chimneys to Wyvvern Abbey. So it did in the old, old days, but it’s all blocked up now. You can only get along it for about a hundred yards from this end. The one upstairs in the White Gallery is ever so much more amusing, and the Priest’s Hole isn’t half bad.” “We’re not regarding them from an artistic standpoint,” explained Virginia. “It’s business. How do you get into the Council Chamber one?” “Hinged panel. I’ll show you after lunch if you like.” “Thank you,” said Superintendent Battle. “Shall we say at 2.30?” Bundle looked at him with lifted eyebrows. “Crook stuff?” she inquired. Tredwell appeared on the terrace. “Luncheon is served, my lady,” he announced. 23 Encounter in the Rose Garden At 2.30 a little party met together in the Council Chamber: Bundle, Virginia, Superintendent Battle, M. Lemoine and Anthony Cade. “No good waiting until we can get hold of Mr. Lomax,” said Battle. “This is the kind of business one wants to get on with quickly.” “If you’ve got any idea that Prince Michael was murdered by some one who got in this way, you’re wrong,” said Bundle. “It can’t be done. The other end’s blocked completely.” “There is no question of that, milady,” said Lemoine quickly. “It is quite a different search that we make.” “Looking for something, are you?” asked Bundle quickly. “Not the historic what-not, by any chance?” Lemoine looked puzzled. “Explain yourself, Bundle,” said Virginia encouragingly. “You can when you try.” “The thingummybob,” said Bundle. “The historic diamond of purple princes that was pinched in the dark ages before I grew to years of discretion.” “Who told you this, Lady Eileen?” asked Battle. “I’ve always known. One of the footmen told me when I was twelve years old.” “A footman,” said Battle. “Lord! I’d like Mr. Lomax to have heard that!” “Is it one of George’s closely guarded secrets?” asked Bundle. “How perfectly screaming! I never really thought it was true. George always was an ass—he must know that servants always know everything.” She went across to the Holbein portrait, touched a spring concealed somewhere at the side of it, and immediately, with a creaking noise, a section of the panelling swung inward, revealing a dark opening. “Entrez, Messieurs et Mesdames,” said Bundle dramatically. “Walk up, walk up, dearies. Best show of the season, and only a tanner.” Both Lemoine and Battle were provided with torches. They entered the dark aperture first, the others close on their heels. “Air’s nice and fresh,” remarked Battle. “Must be ventilated somehow.” He walked on ahead. The floor was of rough uneven stone, but the walls were bricked. As Bundle had said, the passage extended for a bare hundred yards. Then it came to an abrupt end with a fallen heap of masonry. Battle satisfied himself that there was no way of egress beyond, and then spoke over his shoulder.