Then the keys of the great bunch Ben carried were tried on one fast-closed door of oak, studded with square nails much corroded by rust, but it was not until the last key had been thrust in that with a harsh creaking the bolt of the ponderous lock shot back; and then it required the united efforts of both to get the door to turn upon the rusty hinges.
Here they were met by precisely the same appearances, and the search was made, and ended by sounding with the sword pommel.
“No, sir; there’s nothing here.”
“I’m afraid not,” said Roy; “everything sounds solid.”
“Ay, sir, and solid it is.”
“But if you tap so hard, Master Pawson will hear you,” whispered Roy, as the old soldier tried the floor again.
“Maybe not, sir; but if he do, he do. Let’s hope now he’s fast asleep; you see, he’s three floors higher up.”
“But knocking sounds travel a long distance, Ben, and I’d rather he did not know.”
“Me too, sir. Well, this is only three. Let’s try the others.”
“I hope you are not going to have so much work with the finding of the key,” said Roy; “it hinders us so.”