“No, no; it’s wood burning. Oh, Scar, look there!”
As Fred pointed toward the great closet in one corner of the hall, the lads could see a thin blue film of vapour stealing out through the crack at the top; and their first inclination was to run away and shout “Fire!” But second thoughts are best.
“Come on,” cried Scar; and he ran to the closet door, swung it open, and the reason for the smoke was plain enough to see. The candle which they had hidden there till the maid came down had been badly fastened in the socket; had fallen over sidewise, probably when the door was closed, and was now leaning up against the oak wainscot, guttering down rapidly, and burning a long, channel-like hole in the woodwork, which was pouring forth smoke, and would in a few minutes have become serious.
As it was, a little presence of mind was sufficient to avert the danger. The candle was removed, and a handkerchief pressed against the smouldering wainscot stifled the tiny fire, while the windows being open, the pale blue smoke soon evaporated, and the candle was left securely now as the lads re-entered the hall and carefully closed the door once more.
“We should have looked nice if the old hall had been burned down,” said Fred.
“Oh, nonsense!” was the reply. “The place is too strong and full of oak and stone. The hall couldn’t be burned. Here, it’s of no use waiting any longer; she will not come down. Let’s go out in the garden.”
Fred glanced at the stairs, and followed his companion unwillingly; but no sooner were they outside than Scar called his companion’s attention to the bedroom window, where the maid in question was leaning out, watching Nat Lee, as he slowly did his work.
The girl caught sight of the two lads, drew back, and as they waited in the great porch they had the satisfaction of hearing her go back, along the corridor, closing the door at the end.
“Now, Fred,” said Scarlett, excitedly, “we’re safe at last.” He dashed up the stairs and slipped the bolt of the door through which the maid had just passed, and returned to the top of the stairs. “Come along,” he whispered. “Don’t stand there. Bring the light.”
Fred ran to the great closet and obtained the burning candle. The baluster was twisted; there was the familiar crick-crack; the loose step was thrust back, and the boys stood looking into the long box-like opening.