"My dear, don't ask me!" said Joseph, laughing at her. "You know your old uncle has no taste for antiques! For all I know, the house may be riddled with secret passages, and priest-holes, and hidden doors! Or isn't it the right period for those delightfully romantic things? Stephen, you're a bit of an archaeologist! - set your sister's mind at rest!"
Stephen cast him a smouldering look. "I've no idea," he said shortly.
"Oh yes, you love to hide your light under a bushel!" Joseph chaffed him. "Trying to make us believe you're an ignoramus! But he's no such thing, Mrs. Dean, I assure you! In fact - but don't say I told you so! - he's a very clever fellow!"
This piece of facetiousness made Stephen scowl more threateningly than ever, and inspired Mottisfont to say in a meaning tone: "I'm sure if there is a secret way into Nat's room, Stephen would know of it."
"I don't know of it," Stephen replied.
Joseph's arch smile vanished. "What do you mean by that, Edgar?"
Mottisfont raised his brows. "Merely that it's common knowledge that Stephen shared Nat's love for the house. I naturally thought he must know its secrets, if there are any. You're very touchy, Joe!"
"I don't care for that kind of edged remark," Joseph said. "I know this is a period of great strain, Edgar, but we all feel it, some of us perhaps more than you. The least we can do is to refrain from saying malicious things about each other!"
"I wish you'd rid your mind of the belief that I need your support!" said Stephen.
Mrs. Dean, realising that a woman's soothing influence was called for, raised a finger, and said: "Now, Stevie! I shall have to say what I used to say to my girlies, when they were children: birds in their little nests agree!"