Michael's torch was playing over the wall that flanked the staircase on the right, and they saw that the stone had ended, and they were standing behind rough brick. Michael moved on again.
"There! If I haven't lorst count!" said Mr. Fripp disgustedly.
The brick gave place to what looked like a wooden partition of thick deal.
"Clever," Michael said. "Nailed the deal on behind the oak panel to deaden the hollow sound. Here we are!" His torch showed a plain round knob past the panel. He went on up two more stairs, and twisted it. Nothing happened. "That's odd!" Michael said. "It surely must be this knob that corresponds to the apple in the carving the other side. You didn't do anything but turn it, did you, Margaret?"
"No, nothing."
He asked abruptly: "Did the Monk come up or down?"
"Up. I was standing on the second stair, where Peter is now, when the panel closed."
"There's no knob farther down," Michael said. An idea occurred to him. "I wonder - get off that stair, will you, Fortescue?"
Peter moved, and as Michael once more turned the knob the panel slid back.
"Clever little dodge," Michael remarked.