Cuthbert did so.
“Now touch the rose which thou seest in the carving of the cornice there, the fourth rose in order from the door, and the third from the floor.”
The wainscotting of the room was divided into small squares; in each one a rose—S. Joseph’s rose—formed the centre.
“The third and the fourth, canst thou remember?”
“Third from the floor, fourth from the door.”
“Now press the centre of the bud sharply with thy thumb.”
Cuthbert did so, and a bookcase, which seemed a fixture in the wall, and which none could have suspected to have been aught but a fixture, flew open in the manner of a door, and revealed a flight of circular steps, such steps as we see in old towers to this day.
“Follow me,” said the Abbot, as he took a lamp and descended the steps.
Thirty steps down, and as the Abbot’s room was on the ground-floor, they must have been below the foundations of the Abbey when they came upon a solid iron door; the Abbot touched a spring, bidding Cuthbert observe the manner in which it worked, and entered.
“Fasten the door carefully back by this stay,” said the Abbot, “for should it sway to, we are dead men; the lock is a spring lock, and opens only from the outside, nor is there other exit save into the vaults of the dead. Dost thou see this chest? Here is the key, open it.”