"Do you realize, Tom," Dan said, as they stood side by side watching the blazing logs, "that it is sixteen years since General Pointelle stayed at the Inn and used this room? And the treasure, if there is any treasure, has been mouldering here all that time."
"Let's get at it," said Tom. "I confess this place gives me the creeps. Have you got my translation of the directions?"
"Yes, here it is." Dan spread out the bit of paper on one of the tables. "'The hidden door is released by a spring beneath the hand of the lady in the picture nearest the fireplace on the north side of the room.' Ah! that must be it—that old landscape let into the panel there." He walked nearer and examined it closely.
It was a simple landscape, a garden in the foreground, forest and hills in the distance; and in the midst a lady in Eighteenth century costume caressing the head of a greyhound. It was beautifully mellow in tone, and might well have been a production of Gainsborough, though the Frosts had preserved no such tradition.
Dan began to fumble, according to the directions, beneath the hand of the stately lady, pressing vigourously here and there with thumb and forefinger. "What's that?" he cried suddenly. A faint click, as of a spring in action, had sounded sharp in the stillness, but apparently with no other effect. "By Jove!" he exclaimed, "I believe there is something behind it. You heard the click? See there! the panel's opened a bit at the side." Surely enough, there was a long crack on the right—the length of the picture. "Here, let's push."
Careless of the landscape, they put their hands upon the panel and pressed with all their force to the left. It yielded slowly, slipping back side-wise into the wall, and revealed a narrow opening, beyond which was a little circular stairway, leading apparently to some chamber above.
"Here's the entrance to the secret chamber all right," Dan exclaimed. "Let's see where it goes to." He climbed in and started up the winding flight of stairs, Tom close behind him. About half way up the height of the Oak Parlour he came to a door. "Can't go any farther," he called to Tom.
"What's the matter?"
"There's a door here; it leads, evidently, into some little room between the Oak Parlour and the bedroom next. Who would ever have guessed it?"
"Can't you open the door; is it locked?"