Led by Jonas the secret expedition tiptoed silently down the broad hall until they came to a lift. It was situated between the library and dining room and opened onto the second floor within a few feet of the study. It was seldom used by the energetic mistress of the Arms. Jonas opened its door without a sound and the five girls crowded into it, leaving him hardly enough space in which to operate it. At the second floor the man stopped the cage with a faint click and the adventurers stepped noiselessly, one after another, into the hall.
Jonas came last. He motioned the girls to follow him. Down the hall he walked, past the study and on to a small, railed-in balcony. The balcony adjoined the back wall of the study and formed a side of a little open square over the library after the fashion of a patio. Exactly in the middle of the balcony he stopped. The interested watchers saw him run a practiced hand up and down the severely beautiful wainscoting. Soundlessly, a smooth section of the wainscoting, between two raised edges, and fairly wide apart, slid to the left and disappeared from view. Its vanishment left an open space about three feet square.
Mutely peering into the study they saw Miss Susanna seated in Brooke Hamilton’s chair. At the left of her, on the massive table lay a goodly pile of papers, yellowish and time stained. In front of her reposed another pile of official-looking papers and opened letters. She was too deeply immersed in a study of them to be aware of anything outside of them.
Jonas touched Marjorie’s arm. He made a motion toward the aperture. She nodded in merry understanding. Stealthily she lifted first one foot, then the other, over the lower up-standing part of the wainscoting. Holding her breath she reached Miss Susanna’s chair in two noiseless steps. Two soft hands found the old lady’s eyes and closed over them.
“Who-o-o-o!” Miss Susanna cried out like a small tree owl. Like a flash her own sturdy hands readied up and caught Marjorie by the arm. “I know this game! I can guess who it is!” she cried out like a jubilant child.
“Guess, then,” growled Marjorie in as gruff a voice as she could muster.
“Marvelous Manager,” came with delighted certainty. This particular nickname for Marjorie seemed always most to amuse the old lady.
“Right-o! And who else?” Marjorie persisted, still keeping sight shut off from the chuckling victim.
“That’s easy,” boasted Miss Susanna. “Leila and Vera—yes—and Robin Page. Since you’re here, child, she must be here, too. And Kathie. She’s a fixture on the campus. Now drop those hands and let me have a look at you,” impatiently commanded the old lady.