In one corner the detective fumbled for a few moments, and a panel in the wooden wall swung open on a pivot in the center, top, and bottom. There was space enough for an ordinary-sized person to go through, and even a stout one could have squeezed in.
Nick went ahead, and from the darkness beyond told his assistant to follow.
No sooner were they both in, than Nick directed the glow of his flash light up a flight of narrow, winding stairs. They seemed as if they might go to the top of the house, for Chick felt as if he never would be at the end of turning around.
But the chief stopped after a while, and, opening another concealed door, went through, followed by Chick. They were in a narrow hall now—one with half a dozen twists and turns.
“Hush!”
It was the chief’s voice in a low tone of warning, for Chick had just made an exclamation of annoyance as he stumbled over a low stool.
Chick was silent. Then he started, for there were voices close to him, although he could not see anybody but his employer.
“That sounds like Andrew Lampton,” whispered Chick.
“It is Lampton.”
“And there’s Louden Powers.”