After the applause that followed Philip’s speech, Pat pressed the button that moved the bookshelves aside. From then on Philip was kept busy leading one little party after another down into the secret room.
Mr. Graybeard went with the first group and added to the ghostly atmosphere by posing near the safe. Behind him the paper skeleton dangled precariously from the ceiling.
When the last guest had inspected the little room and had gone back up the stairs to the alcove, Philip said to Graybeard, “Thanks for helping us out. You make a swell ghost. Who are you anyway?”
“Never mind,” said a cold, crisp voice. “Turn around and come down the steps with your hands up.”
With one swift gesture, Philip released the spring that closed the secret door. Then he turned to face the gun Graybeard was pointing at him.
Philip was caught in his own trap, but at least the man and his pistol could neither harm nor frighten the people on the other side of the door.
Philip came slowly down the steps. “So you’re our mysterious Mr. X,” he said coolly.
“Call me anything you like,” Graybeard said, taking Philip’s own pistol from his pocket. “Now open that safe.”
Philip shrugged. “Anything to oblige.” he said.
“And don’t try to pull any tricks,” Graybeard warned him. “Upstairs, two men I hired for the occasion are at this very moment relieving your guests of their excess jewelry and cash.”