"How in the world did you discover this?" he asked.
"You shall know in due time. For the moment let us content ourselves with the facts," Hanaud continued. "After the death of Etienne de Crenelle, at some period or another the secret of this passage was lost. It is clear, too, I think that it fell into disrepair and became blocked. At all events at the end of the eighteenth century, the Hôtel de Brebizart passed into other hands than those of the owner of the Maison Crenelle. Simon Harlowe, however, discovered the secret. He bought back the Hôtel de Brebizart, restored the passage and put it to the same use as old Etienne de Crenelle had done. For here Madame Raviart came to live during the years before the death of her husband set her free to marry Simon. There! My little lecture is over. Let us go!"
He bowed low to Ann like a lecturer to his audience and unlatched the double doors of the big buhl cabinet in the recess of the wall. A cry of surprise broke from Ann, who had risen unsteadily to her feet. The cabinet was quite empty. There was not so much as a shelf, and all could see that the floor of it was tilted up against one end and that a flight of steps ran downwards in the thickness of the wall.
"Come," said Hanaud, producing his electric torch. "Will you take this, Monsieur Frobisher, and go first with Mademoiselle. I will turn out the lights and follow."
But Ann with a little frown upon her forehead drew sharply back. She put a hand to Hanaud's sleeve and steadied herself by it. "I will come with you," she said. "I am not very steady on my legs."
She laughed her action off but both men understood it. Jim Frobisher had thought her guilty—guilty of theft and murder. She shrank from him to the man who had had no doubt that she was innocent. And even that was not all. She was wounded by Jim's distrust more deeply than any one else could have wounded her. Frobisher inclined his head in acknowledgment and, pressing the button of the torch, descended five or six of the narrow steps. Moreau followed him.
"You are ready, Mademoiselle? So!" said Hanaud.
He put an arm about her to steady her and pressed up a switch by the open doors of the cabinet. The room was plunged in darkness. Guided by the beam of light, they followed Frobisher on to the steps. Hanaud closed the doors of the cabinet and fastened them together with the bolts.
"Forward," he cried, "and you, Mademoiselle, be careful of your heels on these stone steps."
When his head was just below the level of the first step he called upon Frobisher to halt and raise the torch. Then he slid the floor board of the cabinet back into its place. Beneath this a trap-door hung downwards. Hanaud raised it and bolted it in place.