Chapter Three.
The Caretaker.
“Let’s follow it along,” said Alix, after another moment or two’s hesitation.
They were standing, as I said, not many yards from the end of the wall, and thither the sound seemed to lead them. When they got quite to the corner the tapping had stopped. But the children were not discouraged.
“That’s what fairies do,” said Alix, as if all her life she had lived on intimate terms with the beings she spoke of. “They show you a bit, and then they leave you to find out a bit for yourself. We must poke about now and see what we can find.”
Rafe had already set to work in this way: he was feeling and prodding the big, solid-looking stones which finished off the corner.
“Alix,” he exclaimed, “one of these stones shakes a little; let’s push at it together.”
Yes, there was no doubt that it yielded a little, especially at one side. The children pushed with all their might and main, but for some time an uncertain sort of wobbling was the only result. Rafe stood back a little to recover his breath, and to look at the stone more critically.
“There may be some sort of spring or hinge about it,” he said at last. “Give me the parasol again, Alix.”
He then pressed the point of it firmly along the side of the stone, down the seam of mortar which appeared to join it to its neighbour in the wall. He need not have pressed so hard, for when he got to the middle of the line the stone suddenly yielded, turning inwards so quickly and sharply that Rafe almost fell forward on the parasol, and a square dark hole was open before them.