“It certainly does,” agreed Florence.
Eagerly Jo Ann began examining one of the panels, testing it to see if it would move. Following her example, Peggy and Florence began trying to move the ones nearest them. Each panel, they discovered, had a slight depression carved in the top, which served as a fingerhold.
After they had worked for several minutes without success, Peggy said disgustedly, “Let’s stop this foolishness and get out of this awful room. These panels look like vaults or tombs—like the ones we saw in that old St. Roch’s Cemetery in New Orleans. I’ve seen enough spooks and family skeletons to do me for ages.” She tugged at Jo Ann’s arm impatiently.
Almost simultaneously Jo Ann exclaimed, “Oh, I’ve found a panel that moves! Shine your light this way, Peg, while Florence helps me to shove it up.”
Together Jo Ann and Florence pushed vigorously on the panel.
“Fine! It’s moving!” ejaculated Jo Ann finally. “Once more, Florence—hard, now!”
Peggy threw the rays from her flashlight directly into the narrow crack now appearing below the stone. “Oh, I see something—something white! Push the stone up a little higher, can’t you?” Turning suddenly to Florence, she ordered, “You hold the light and let me push. I’m stronger than you.”
In a few more moments there was a loud grating sound as the stone moved, and the crack below widened several inches.
“There’s something in there, all right,” agreed Florence. “If you promise not to let that stone drop on my hand, I’ll reach in and get it. Can you hold it?”
“Let’s get a better hold first!” cried Jo Ann. “My hand’s slipping. Now, are you ready, Peg?”