“Now let me try,” cried Scarlett, “so as to make sure.”
The opening was closed again, the baluster twisted, and it was again opened, the lads pausing before the dark cavity, across which the coloured rays played over a bar of dancing motes.
“Seems to me,” said Fred, “that we’ve discovered a secret. Does your father know of it, do you think?”
“I feel sure he doesn’t. I say, let’s see if there’s anything inside.”
“Do you think we ought to?”
“I wouldn’t, if I thought my father knew about it; but I don’t believe he does, so I shall try. Of course I shall tell him.”
“Yes, of course,” said Fred, whose curiosity pricked him on to action, and who felt relieved by his companion’s words. “But do you think it’s a secret drawer?”
“Yes, I’m sure it is, or it wouldn’t be made like that.”
“But perhaps they are all made this way.”
This was a damper; for if the stairs were all made in this fashion, there could be no secret.