“The cellar is never carefully locked,” said Fleming Stone. “I came downstairs early this morning, and before breakfast Harris had shown me all through the cellar. He admits that several windows are always left open for the sake of ventilation, and claims that the carefully locked door in the hall at the head of the cellar stairs precludes all danger from that direction.”
“But I don’t understand,” said Mr. Fairbanks perplexedly. “If that opening is an ash-chute, such as I have in my own house, it is all bricked up down below, with the exception of a small opening for the removal of the ashes, and it would be quite impossible for any one to climb up through it.”
“But this one isn’t bricked up,” said Fleming Stone. “It was originally intended to be enclosed; but it seems this fireplace is rarely used. Harris tells me that the late Mr. Van Norman used to talk about having the chute completed, and having a fire here more often. But the library wood fire was more attractive as a family gathering place, and this formal room was used only on state occasions. However, as you see,” and Mr. Stone raised the iron lid again, “this opens directly into the cellar, and, I repeat, formed the means of entrance for the murderer of Madeleine Van Norman.”
Fleming Stone’s voice and manner were far from triumphant or jubilant at his discovery. He seemed rather to state the fact with regret, but as if it must be told.
Mr. Fairbanks looked amazed and thoughtful, but Rob Fessenden was frankly incredulous.
“Mr. Stone,” he said respectfully, “I am sure you know what you’re talking about, but will you tell me how a man could get up through that hole? It doesn’t seem to me that a small-sized boy could squeeze through.”
Fleming Stone took a silver-cased tape-measure from his pocket, and handed it to Rob without a word.
Eagerly stooping on the hearth, Rob measured the oval opening in the iron plate. Although the rectangular plate was several inches larger each way, the oval opening measured exactly nine and one-half inches by thirteen and one-half inches.
“Who could get through that?” he inquired, as he announced the figures. “I’m sure I couldn’t.”
“And Schuyler Carleton is a larger man than you are,” observed Mr. Fairbanks.