“There’s one thing wanted, and that’s light and fresh air. Only let me get those shutters down, and the window open, and then we’ll see. I should say from the smell of the place that there has never been any proper ventilation since the house was built.”
But it was easier said than done. Those shutters would not come down. How to begin to get them down was more than I could understand. To my astonishment, when I rapped them with my knuckles, they rang.
“I do believe,” I said, “they’re made of iron—they’re a metal of some kind. They seem to have been built into the solid wall, as if they had never intended them to be moved. No wonder the place smells like a vault, and beetles, and other nice things, flourish, if they’re fixtures.”
A scullery led out of the kitchen. It was in the same state. One crunched blackbeetles at every step. There was a shutter before the window, which had evidently never been meant to be taken down. Where, apparently, there had been a door leading into a backyard or something, was a sheet of solid metal. No one was going to get out that way in a hurry; or in either.
“But what can be the meaning of it all?” I cried. “There must be an object in all this display of plate armour, or whatever it is. The place is fortified as if it were meant to stand a siege. I shall begin to wonder if there isn’t a treasure hidden somewhere in the house; a great store of gold and precious stones, and that Uncle Benjamin made up his mind that at any rate thieves should not break through and steal.”
“Oh, Pollie, do you think there is? Perhaps it’s in the next room—perhaps that’s why the door is locked.”
“Perhaps so; and perhaps the key’s upstairs, waiting for us to come and find it. Anyhow we’ll go and see.”
When I rejoined Emily it struck me that she was not looking quite so happy as she might have done; as if the romance was not taking altogether the shape she either expected or desired. I led the way upstairs. There was a carpet on them; but by the illumination afforded by a guttering candle, it only needed a glance to see that, if you once took it up, you would probably never be able to put it down again—it would fall to pieces. We had hardly gone up half-a-dozen steps when there came a clitter-clatter from above. Emily, who was behind, caught me by the skirt.
“Pollie! Stop! Whatever’s that? There’s someone there!”
“Rats, most likely. In a house like this there are sure to be all sorts of agreeable things. Where there aren’t blackbeetles there are rats; and where there’s either there’s probably both.”