"A room about the same size, surrounded on all sides except the window with books packed on shelves."
"Where is the door?"
"There is no door, visible at least, except that by which one enters from Sir Jekyl Marlowe's room," answered Monsieur Jacques.
"Any sign of a door?"
Monsieur Jacques smiled a little mysteriously.
"When my friend, Monsieur Tomlinson, Sir Jekyl's gentleman, had left me alone for a few minutes, to look at some old books of travels with engravings, for which I had always a liking, I did use my eyes a little, Monsieur, upon other objects, but could see nothing. Then, with the head of my stick I took the liberty to knock a little upon the shelves, and one place I did find where the books are not real, but made of wood."
"Made of wood?" repeated Monsieur Varbarriere.
"Yes—bound over to imitate the tomes; and all as old and dingy as the books themselves."
"You knew by the sound?"
"Yes, Monsieur, by the sound. I removed, moreover, a real book at the side, and I saw there wood."