These were easily swept away, but when removed, an unwelcome fact became apparent.
“Oh! I say,” cried Di, in dismay, “they’ve walled up the door!”
Not only the keyhole but every hairbreadth of space all round the door had been filled in with solid cement. Yes, even between the floor and the lowest panel of the door, there was a thick seam of plaster.
“Oh, the old fiends!” cried Di, jumping off her chair and stamping with rage, “Old wretches, whoever they were! I wonder if Mrs. Busson ever saw this.”
As a matter of fact, she had not. Otherwise, she would not have been so anxious to keep the knowledge of that room’s existence from her little guests.
“We are done, hopelessly done,” cried Di, “one might as well try to open a sealed up vault as that door.”
“Are you quite sure of it?” asked Andrew, with a look of relief on his face which was not apparent in that dim light.
His prolonged nearness to that uncomfortable rumbling noise had entirely quenched Andrew’s ardour for forcing an entrance into the forbidden room, and he was quite ready to abandon the undertaking without further ceremony.
Not so Di, however.
“Of course, we won’t be done,” she said.