"It's possible that any one might conceal some cavity," said Connie. "But that one would surely differ in some way from the others. Let us spread out and inspect them. Anybody who finds a flag in any way peculiar, speak."
Constance herself began to peer at the stone flooring, not at all because she expected to find anything in the least unusual, but because she did not want disappointment to fall upon Win too quickly. If he really searched thoroughly, he would be better satisfied to acknowledge the quest as useless.
Among the many scenes those centuries-old walls had looked upon, it is a question whether they had witnessed so gay a sight as the five young people, wandering slowly up and down the uneven floor, looking for some stone raised higher or sunken lower than the others, more carefully fitted; perhaps, though this could scarcely be hoped, provided with an iron ring for a handle.
Nothing happened. No two of the many flags were alike, yet none seemed of sufficient distinction to mark it as worth further investigation. All looked as though they had never been moved.
The other and more recent cellars received scanty attention. Of lesser age, they were also cleaner, drier and better lighted.
"Our adventure seems fruitless," sighed Connie as they stood at last among bins and bottles near the kitchen stairs. "Why, where is Win?"
Both Frances and Roger started back, ashamed to have forgotten him if only for a moment. Suppose poor Win had had one of his attacks alone back there in that shadow-filled vault!
Win was found in the original cellar of the old Manor, not pacing the floor or tapping the stones, but meditatively staring at one of its walls, not the one he had devoted so much attention to, but the northern boundary.
"What luck?" asked Connie as they came in, relieved at sight of him.
"None," said Win, turning to her with curiously bright eyes. "But, Miss
Connie, do you think your father would show me those plans again!"