The others moved off to a corner of the room and the old man went on whispering mysteriously. “We were the last who saw him, you and I. He followed me that night. Do you remember? He fell. He is lying at the foot of the stairs now. There is a gash in his head and—blood!” “Press the panel in the attic——” The old man’s voice died away in a gasp.
“Which panel?” asked Bab, in an agony for fear he would not finish.
“The one with the knot hole in the right hand corner,” he added and fell back on the couch.
Bab tried to make him tell more, but his mind was clouded over and he had already forgotten she was there.
“Has he finished?” asked Stephen.
“Yes,” replied Bab, “but come quickly. We have no time to lose. José is lying somewhere, dead or half dead, in the secret passage.”
Too much excited and amazed to say good-night to the hermit, the callers rushed down the passage, followed by the two servants. At the foot of the attic stairs they waited while John brought lights, and for the second time that day Bab climbed into the vast old attic.
“Thank fortune the partition is down,” exclaimed Stephen. “I suppose Uncle Stephen forgot to slide it back, he was in such a hurry to get away from José.” Bab had explained the situation, to Stephen while they waited for the candles. “Which panel did he say, Bab?”
“This must be it,” she answered; “the panel in the right-hand corner that has a knot hole in it. Here is the knot hole all right. We are to press it, he said.”
They pressed, but nothing happened.