Lady Arctura opened the door of her bedroom. Donal glanced round it. It was as old-fashioned as the other.
“What is behind that press there—wardrobe, I think you call it?” he asked.
“Only a recess,” answered lady Arctura. “The press, I am sorry to say, is too high to get into it.”
Possibly had the press stood in the recess, the latter would have suggested nothing; but having caught sight of the opening behind the press, Donal was attracted by it. It was in the same wall with the fireplace, but did not seem formed by the projection of the chimney, for it did not go to the ceiling.
“Would you mind if I moved the wardrobe a little on one side?” he asked.
“Do what you like,” she answered.
Donal moved it, and found the recess rather deep for its size. The walls of the room were wainscotted to the height of four feet or so, but the recess was bare. There were signs of hinges on one, and of a bolt on the other of the front edges: it had seemingly been once a closet, whose door continued the wainscot. There were no signs of shelves in it; the plaster was smooth.
But Donal was not satisfied. He took a big knife from his pocket, and began tapping all round. The moment he came to the right-hand side, there was a change in the sound.
“You don’t mind if I make a little dust, my lady?” he said.
“Do anything you please,” answered Arctura.