The rail did not yield. It was anchored solidly in its base.
"Sold!" ejaculated Ralph. Walt Phelps did not speak, but his disappointment was keen.
The professor said nothing, but thought deeply, for a few minutes. Then he spoke.
"I have it," he exclaimed suddenly, "it's we that have been wrong, and not the book."
"What do you mean?" asked Ralph, "we followed directions. I memorized them carefully myself."
"Yes, my boy, we did, but if you recollect the book said nothing about the color of the squares. We counted on the black ones, assuming that to be correct. Now might it not just as well have been the white ones that the directions meant?"
"That's so," agreed Ralph eagerly, with new hope; "let's try it that way."
"We'll have to be quick. It will be dark as pitch in a few minutes," said Walt.
Once more the three bent over the floor and counted carefully, this time using the white tiles as counters. Their enumeration brought them to another old brass rail, standing upright in what had once been the chancel of the old church.