“I do understand them a little,” said George excitedly. “Mr Hampton, there’s something wrong here.”
“What do you mean?”
“You say that is a bricked-up part of the cellar?”
“Yes; the old man did it for his heir.”
“And it has never been opened since?”
“Of course not.”
George looked at the brickwork again, scanning it very narrowly with the candle close to the wall.
“Yes, it has,” he said, taking out his knife, and trying the mortar between the bricks, and then the other parts. “This mortar is comparatively soft.”
“Dampness of the place.”
“Newness of the mortar, sir. That dog, by his wonderful instinct, knows that something is wrong behind here.”