“No, he’s an honest mercenary,” said the colonel; “I’ll introduce him to you.”
“And you haven’t found any method of entering the house?” fumed the financier.
“No,” said Aunt Rebecca.
“Yes,” said the colonel.
He laughed as they both whirled round on him.
“You speak first, my dear aunt,” he proposed politely; “I’ll explain later.”
Mrs. Winter said that a most careful examination had been made not only by Mercer and the colonel together, but also by young Arnold. They found everything absolutely secure; all the windows were bolted and all the cellar gratings firm and impossible to open.
“Now, you?” said Warnebold.
“I only found out to-day,” apologized the colonel, “or I should have spoken of it. I got to thinking; and it occurred to me that in a house built, as I understood from Arnold, by a very original architect, there might be some queer features, such as secret passages. With that in my mind, I induced the young gentleman to hunt up the architect, as he lives in San Francisco. He not only showed us some very pretty secret passages about the house, but one that led into it. Shall I show it to you?”
On their instantly expressed desire to see the hidden way, the colonel led them to the patio. He walked to the engaged column which once before had interested him; he pressed a concealed spring under the boldly carved eight-pointed flower; instantly, the entire side of the columns swung as a door might swing. As they peered into the dusky space below, the colonel, who had put down his arm, pressed an electric button and the white light flooded the shaft, revealing an ingenious ladder of cleats fitted into steel uprights.