By “there” Cranston referred to a space beneath a side door of the stable and the door itself was unusual. It looked like a door for horses, except that it was so small a horse would have had to crawl through on its knees. The door was locked, but Cranston opened it with a skeleton key and bowed Margo inside.
Right near the little door were some old stalls of miniature size, which answered Margo’s mental query.
“They must have kept ponies here, Lamont!”
“Wrong,” replied Cranston. “They kept goats. It was quite fun, years ago, for children to go riding in little wagons drawn by goats. You should delve into the history of Central Park, Margo.”
There were larger stalls on the other side of the stable, near the big door, while in a corner Cranston indicated a platform set in the stone floor.
“They kept horses in those big stalls,” he explained, “and there were a lot more downstairs. That platform is an elevator that was used to haul hay up from below.”
The wooden platform rattled when Cranston stepped upon it, but it bore his weight quite easily.
“This elevator was used last night,” declared Cranston in a tone that seemed more than mere conjecture. “A taxicab was hauled up from the floor below and sent out through the big door. Another cab came in and was lowered to the transverse level. After that the elevator was brought up again.”
Margo suddenly shook her head.
“Couldn’t be,” she insisted. “The elevator may be strong enough, but there’s no motive power to haul up anything as heavy as a taxicab.”