"We'll go back if you like," she whispered.
"No, no," replied Blanche breathlessly; "let's go on, now we've come so far."
On they went. They passed the door of the room which contained the old chest. Nothing was to be seen; but, turning a sharp corner at the end of one passage leading to another which was apparently a blind alley, they stopped suddenly.
There before them, at the end of this passage, was a faint seam of light, hardly perceptible. There it was, looking as if it came from under a door, but they knew that no door was there. Where could it come from? They looked all round, but could find no clue to the mystery. Marjory shaded the candle with her hand, in case the light might in some way be reflected from it; but no—there was the straight narrow seam, shining as before.
They crept along the passage until they stood in front of the wall. They felt cautiously for a handle, but there was none—no sign of anything in the shape of a door or entrance of any kind.
A thought struck Blanche.
"Perhaps it's a secret sliding panel," she whispered. "I've read about them in books. They go by a spring in some way. You have to press in one place, and it slides back. Shall we try?" she said, breathing fast, her eyes large with mingled fear and excitement.
"Yes, if you're quite sure you're not frightened. It might do you harm to be frightened," said Marjory, whispering very softly. "I could take you back and come again by myself."
"No, I'm not frightened—at least, not much—and we must try. What can it be?"
They began to press cautiously against the wall above the crack which showed the light. They tried for some time—it seemed hours to them—when suddenly, neither of them knowing who had touched the spring, there was a sharp click, the panel flew back, and a flood of light shone out upon them. Blanche's theory had been correct. It was a secret door, designed by some bygone Hunter in dangerous times.