She Painted her Face (8 page)

It was very simply built, and served, or was served, by five doorways, not one of which was hidden In any way; and since its form was that of the ordinary winding stair, it was hard to see how any other doorway could really be there, and harder still to divine where such another doorway could possibly lead— for on one hand you had the chambers, and, on the other, the wall of the tower itself.

The door from the courtyard gave to a miniature hall which just accepted the oak when Caroline swung it back. This hall was but four feet square and might, in days gone by, have been held by one man against fifty who strove to pass. As you entered the hall, the stairway rose on your right, and, before you, another doorway led to the first of the chambers within the tower. These were three in number, and all would have had the same shape, but for the demands which lavatories and a bathroom had made

Hall and apartments were panelled with old, black oak, which might have belonged to the chancel of some cathedral church. I never saw woodwork so rich laid up against stone, for it was by no means a skin, as panelling usually is, but was wealthy and massive enough to have made a wall of itself. What with this and the hangings and carpets, which were of crimson throughout, the tower was like the king's daughter, "all glorious within," and as I passed through the bedroom, to make myself clean, I felt as pretenders must feel when first they assume the purple in which they have not been born.

Before we did anything else, we bolted the door between the tower and the castle, as well, of course, as the door by which we came in. If the former were found to be fast, whoever tried it would know that somebody was or had been within the tower; but we felt we must take that risk, for otherwise we must keep continual watch and even though watch were kept, whoever came in might very well come upon us before we were able to profit by the alarm.

After that, I made for the window whose bars I had forced aside, and roughly repacked the sockets from which the cement was gone: and since, before we came in, we had gathered the scraps which had fallen while I, was at work, there now was nothing to show that the cage had been tampered with.

Then I joined my lady and Herrick, who were surveying the stair.

It was dark by night, it was dim by day, and we could do nothing useful without the help of a torch; so, though we had not brought Brenda with that idea, she had very soon to come to Caroline's aid: together they shed the light, while Herrick and I conducted the actual search

That the work would require great patience was presently clear, for the walls seemed to be as blank as an untouched page, yet we could not believe that a doorway could be concealed In the steps. The panelling could have been hiding a host of openings, and we were naturally tempted to turn our attention to that but the staircase was not panelled, and we were concerned with the staircase, and not with the rooms.

"You must go up, counting your steps— "

Not until that time did I at all understand the portion confronting the prisoner of ancient days, who set himself to discover a way to break out of his hold; but now I know some of the trials those men endured, for though our case was different, we did as they must have done. The constant chill and the rudeness of naked stone, the furtive light, the anxious fingering of masonry, the whispered consultation, the sudden shock of unfamiliar sounds—of such was our two-day tenure of the great tower of Brief. And, indeed, I cannot believe that four persons, good or evil, were ever so queerly placed, living and moving about their business, living and moving In the midst of a country house whose lawful tenants were going about their business, never dreaming of the presence of strangers within their gates

(Here, perhaps, I should say that we had by no means forgotten "the son of the house"; but, if Percy Virgil meant mischief, we could scarcely have been in a better or safer place, for, though he should seek us "until the cows came home," it never would enter his head that we were about our business under his father's roof.)

IT WAS FIVE O'CLOCK on the Wednesday afternoon when Caroline straightened her back and led the way to the bedroom where Brenda had set out some tea.

We had now been within the tower for thirty-nine hours, for more than thirty of which we had striven to find the doorway with all our might. I And we were no nearer our goal than when we had bolted the doors and begun our search. At most, ten hours were left us, for by three on the following morning we must be gone.

As I stumbled into the bedroom, Herrick opened his mouth.

"I think we should face the fact that we're up against time. We've eight hours only before us, and then we must go— for good. I mean, to return would be futile. What we can't find in fifty hours we shan't find in fifty years; and to go on smearing these walls would be wasting valuable time. Besides, there's the spiritual side. If we did come back, we should come back without our hearts. We should know that our efforts were doomed before we set out. And so we have now eight hours in which to discover a secret we know is there. Myself, I think we should do it: in fact, if we don't, I shall think the less of myself. When all's said and done, it's a question or using one's brain. And that's where I think we've gone wrong. When our eyes and our hands had failed us, we ought to have let them be; to go on using them was only distracting our brains— well, I'm going to give mine a show now before it's too late."

With that he walked into the bathroom to lave his head and his hands, and I sank down on the bed and did my best to marshal my weary wits.

"He's right," said Caroline slowly. "One always begins the wrong way. Once we'd been over the ground, we ought to have sat down quietly, and let our minds play upon the puzzle; You know. Like doing a crossword."

"That's all very well," said I, accepting some tea from Brenda, who showed no sign of fatigue. "But who could do a crossword without any clues?"

"We've got two clues. We know that a doorway exists, and we know that, to reach that doorway, we've got to go up the stair. If—"

"My heavens!" said I starting up. There was a moment's silence. Then

"Go on," said Caroline quietly. "What do you know?"

"Your father said that there was in the tower a doorway which no one would ever find. And then he used the words, 'you must go up, counting your steps.' But he never said that the doorway was on the staircase. He said it was in the tower."

"You mean—"

"I mean that we have been looking for a doorway which we can reach from the stair; but we ought to have been looking for something upon the stair which, when we have found it, will disclose where the doorway is."

'That's right," said Herrick's voice. "And the stairway bears him out. There is no doorway there— I think we can swear to that. But there is a spring or something which, when I we can touch it off, will open some hidden door in another part of the tower."

The case was now greatly altered, for though we had sought high and low, when you are looking for a doorway you naturally do not probe places which could not be hiding a hole more than two inches square.

Then again we were now released from the heart-breaking duty of striving with reason herself, for reason had continually insisted that, because of its shape and construction, such a stair could not be concealing the kind of opening we sought.

Indeed, to say our hopes rose conveys nothing at all. All our weariness left us, and all our anxiety fled. We simply knew that the path we were on was the right one and very soon would bring us up to our goal.

And so it did.

Not more than an hour had gone by when I found on the thirty-sixth step a nick which might have belonged to the lid of a pencil-box. It was cut in the tread of the step, close to the edge and close to the outer wall. It was choked with a cake of dirt which I had to cut out with my knife, and an obstinate film of dirt was encrusting that side of the tread, but when I had used a wet cloth to rub the stone clean, there were the parallel cracks which I had expected to see. In a word, I had found a panel— a tiny, sliding panel which, if I could draw it towards me, would discover a slot In the tread, three inches by two.

(Here, perhaps, I should say that I have now no doubt that the film of dirt on the tread was more than the natural deposit which Time will lay, and that, after replacing the panel, the late Count of Brief had washed the stone with some liquid which, when it was dry, would form an invisible skin.)

Half an hour went by before the little panel allowed me to have my way. Then, at last, with a crack, it yielded, and two minutes later I drew it out of the tread.

Its withdrawal disclosed no slot, but a miniature well, rather more than an inch across; and sunk in this well was a bolt of very old iron.

At once we saw that the bolt was thus holding in place the rise of the step upon which we were now at work, and that if we could pull the bolt up, the rise would be free to be moved.

As might have been expected, the bolt was tight in its well, but it was not cemented in, and after another ten minutes I managed to wheedle it out.

I then took the mallet from Herrick and tapped the rise. At once the side I tapped retreated before the blow, but the other side started forward out of its place.

"Pivoted," breathed Herrick. "It's hung on a spindle, just like a revolving door."

One hand my shoulder, Caroline lowered her torch.

There was now before us a gap where the rise had been. This gap was split into two by the rise itself, for this had simply been turned and was now presenting its edge, instead of its face. The torch immediately showed that the gap on the right was void— that is to say, on the side on which the rise had retired; but the gap on the left was framing a block of stone. And sunk in the face of this stone was a handle, or rude iron dog.

I can never forget how the sight of this primitive holdfast remembered the fairy stories which I had loved as a child— the magic rings which, when pulled, disclosed a secret entry into some robbers' cave, and the carving which, when depressed, caused panels to spring ajar at the head of some secret stair. And how I can only suppose that all those pretty legends are faithfully founded on fact, for there was the handle before me, and when I laid hold upon it I was, though we did not know it, about to disclose the doorway we could not find.

Now the block of stone before as appeared to be unattached. It was very slightly smaller than the gap through which it appeared, and it seemed to be resting on something which was not I part of the stair. It I fitted its recess as closely as does a brick loose in a wall; it was by no means loose; but the moment I touched it— I cannot say that it moved, but I knew that it was not fixed.

This very peculiar condition astonished us all. for the block must have measured at least nine inches by five, and though, for all we knew, it was only three inches deep, the weight of a stone of that size should have held it fast.

"Go on," said Herrick. "Pull it. If a genie appears, so much the better. I've quite a lot of orders to give."

I laid hold of the dog and pulled. At once the block slid forward, after the way of a drawer that you pull from a chest. And, as you may pull a drawer clear, so I drew the block out of its housing, over the tread of the step which lay, like an apron to take it, in front of the gap.

The block was immensely heavy, for it must have been twelve Inches deep, and, when I had drawn it clear, it was all I could do to lift it out of the way and on to the tread above.

To do this, I had to stand up and lift it between my legs; but the others stayed where they were.

As I laid it down:

"Do you see it, too?" said Herrick. "I— I don't understand," breathed Caroline. "I mean, how can that be there?"

"What is it?" said I, and stepped back to go down on my knees.

"It's time we went home," said Herrick. "That's what it is. When I run into black magic, that's where I get off."

Never had idle words so specious a warranty.

The block which I had withdrawn had left behind it no room.

Though I make a fool of myself, at least I will make this clear.

When you pull a drawer from a chest and lay it aside, you leave in the chest a space which is very slightly larger than the drawer which you have removed. But, though I had drawn out the block, there was no such space left. In fact, the gap was now framing another block of stone which resembled exactly the one I had taken away, except that it had no handle by which it could be withdrawn. And when presently I touched it, the same indefinable tremor told me it was not fixed.

"Can you beat it?" said Herrick shortly.

"On the face of it, no," said I. "But there must be some simple reason for such a thing. I mean, these doings are ancient: there's no machinery here."

"There can't be a reason," said Herrick, "unless you're a conjurer. If you pick a brick out of a wall, you've a right to expect a recess. Well, there's the brick you picked out; but where's the recess?"

"There was a recess," said my lady. "There must have been. But now it's been filled."

"That's right," said I. "That's right. And I'll tell you another thing. It's got to be emptied again before we can put that block back."

"Do you mean to suggest," said Herrick, "that a slab of stone of that size, fixed or unfixed, can shift to and fro on its own?"

"I have it," said Brenda's voice. "The thing is a counterpoise. My uncle has one at his farm. It is very old, but its movement is silent and sure as the flight of an owl."

There was an electric silence. Then

"By heaven, the girl's right!" said Herrick. "And there's the conjuring trick. Beneath these steps there's a balance; and when you drew out that block you lightened one of its scales— with two results. One was that the scale you had lightened rose in the air, and thus revealed to our eyes the second weight on that scale. That is it, there— in the gap." He got to his feet. "And the other result was this— that the opposite scale sank down— thus revealing somewhere or other the doorway we're trying to find."

That this interpretation was good there could be no doubt, and we all began to go down the winding stair, surveying the walls as we went for some gap in the masonry. We were too much excited, I fear, to use our wits. Had we done so, we should have perceived that there was but one direction in which the balance could hang, and that this would bring the scale which we wished to as we emerged from the staircase into the small, square hall, we saw directly before us the interspace which we sought.