“Not the slightest,” replied the acting governor. “It was made soundproof when the palace was built. Many a secret meeting was held here in the days of the Spanish sovereignty of San Juan.”
“I suppose so. Only right, too.”
“I’ve looked into it since I’ve been here,” went on Portersham. “The walls, ceiling, and floor are lined with felt. You might shoot off a gun in here without its being heard inside.”
“Fine!” smiled the senator. “How about the door?”
“That is so thick that a person on the other side could not hear anything—even a very loud noise. The keyhole is blinded, of course, and I can slip the deadlatch with a touch of my finger. See!”
He walked over to the door and touched a spring, which clicked rather loudly in response.
“That makes it safe for anything you might have to say that must not be heard outside—state secrets, I mean?” remarked the senator.
“Yes. You could commit a murder in here without any one knowing it—until the door was broken open.”
Portersham said this a little impatiently. He was curious to hear what Senator Micah Garnford had to say to him. It was not often that so important a personage came with a special message from Washington.
“I am glad to know that the room is so well protected,” observed the senator. “Just draw a little closer to the table, will you? I want to show you the papers that have brought me all the way from Washington—and at a time when I really ought not to have left the Senate.”