The piece of rag was the corner of a canvas bag, which had evidently been slightly shut in and which Lion discovering had pulled further and further through.
The reason that he could not draw it quite through was evident, for the bag which Gertie had pulled up with the door lay on the floor, and it was full of something hard and heavy.
Gertie scrambled up off the floor, picked up the bag, and peered into the open space below the flooring, wondering why her grandfather had such a queer cupboard as that.
As she looked down she was astonished to see that the space was full of canvas bags like this one, only some of them were larger and looked peculiar in shape. She lifted one up and opened it and saw only what she thought was a pewter pot in it.
She thought it very strange that her grandfather should keep pewter pots and heavy bags under his floor; but while she was looking and wondering she heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs.
In an instant she was seized with a paroxysm of fear. If her grandfather found her there, what would he do? The footsteps sounded nearer.
Hastily flinging in the bag and closing the trap-door, Gertie, hardly knowing what she did, crept up into a corner behind a box near the door, which was ajar.
She was covered with dust from kneeling on the floor, and her face was so hot and flushed she feared to meet her grandfather. She hoped he was corning in with some one and would go out again directly.
From her corner she could peep through the crack of the door.
She saw a gentleman, who looked like a foreigner, enter first, closely followed by her grandfather, and then another gentleman with a dark face and a hook nose.