"Somewhere in this house, the dead man, Tom Ossington, concealed his fortune, all that he had worth having. It is as clear as if I saw the actual hiding place." "My gracious goodness! Is it?" "It is within a few feet of where we're standing. At this moment we're 'hot,' I know--I feel it!" "Listen to that now! Madge, you must have second sight." "That scrap of paper contains, as Mr. Graham puts it, the key of the riddle. It's a minute description of the precise whereabouts of the dead man's hiding place. All we have to do is to find out what it means, and if we are not all idiots, that shouldn't be hard. Why, you've only got to see the house; you've only to look about you, and use your eyes, to at once perceive that it's honeycombed with possible hiding places--just the sort of crevices and crannies which would commend themselves to such a man as this Tom Ossington. Look at this very room, for instance; it's wainscotted. That means, probably, that between the outer wall and the wainscot there's an open space--and who knows what beside? Listen!" She struck the wainscot in question with her open palm. "You can hear it has a hollow backing. Why"--she touched it again more gently, then stopped, as if puzzled--"why, the wood-work moves." She gave a little cry, "Ella." "Madge?" They came crowding round her, with eager faces. CHAPTER IX THE THING WHICH WAS HIDDEN She had placed her hand against a portion of the wainscotting which was about level with her breast. As, in her excitement, she had unconsciously pressed it upwards, the panel had certainly moved. Between it and the wood below there was a cavity of perhaps a quarter of an inch. "Push it! Push it higher!" This was Jack. Apparently that was just what Madge was endeavouring to do, in vain. "It won't move. It's stuck--or something." Mr. Graham advanced. "Allow me, perhaps I may manage." She ceded to him her position. He placed his huge hand where her smaller one had been. He endeavoured his utmost to induce the panel to make a further movement. "Put your fingers into the opening," suggested Jack, "and lever it." Graham acted on the suggestion, without success. He examined the panel closely. "If it were ever intended to go higher, the wood has either warped, or the groove in which it slides has become choked with dust." Ella was peeping through the opening. "There is something inside--there is, I don't know what it is, but there is something--I can see it. Oh, Mr. Graham, can't you get it open wider!" "Here, here! let's get the poker; we'll try gentle persuasion." Jack, forcing the point of the poker into the cavity, leant his weight upon the handle. There was a creaking sound--and nothing else. "George! it's stiff! I'm putting on a pressure of about ten tons."