A hush fell over the little party of "Automobile Girls." A gentle scratching that seemed to come from the left side of the fireplace was audible to each of them. As they listened the sound seemed to magnify. A draft through the open door that led into the hallway smote Mollie in the back of the neck. She sprang up, uttering a little cry.
"It's a ghost. I felt it blow on my neck," she cried.
"Nonsense! I'll soon show you the ghost," offered Ruth, starting to her feet. "I know this old place pretty well. May I, Olive?"
Olive nodded smilingly. Ruth stepped to the left side of the fireplace and, grasping a knob that had escaped the observation of the Kingsbridge girls, deliberately pulled out a panel that was in reality a door.
The girls uttered exclamations of amazement. Then they saw something move in the dark recess the door had revealed. It was Tom, sitting in the hole in the wall, with his feet curled up under him. He was grinning sardonically.
"Here's your ghost," announced Ruth, taking firm hold of the irrepressible Tom's collar and assisting him out into the room. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Thomas Presby, frightening young women in that fashion."
"Yes, Tom, I am ashamed of you," rebuked Olive. But Tom was perfectly cheerful and unabashed.
"A secret passage?" gasped Mollie.
"It's a sort of underground passage, built to look like an old-fashioned Dutch oven," explained Olive.
"Per—perhaps the treasure is buried there," suggested Bab scarcely above a whisper.