“Oh, shut up,” said Mordaunt Reeves. “You’re right, Carmichael, as usual. What’s wrong with starting now?”
Reeves, it must be confessed, did his part of the programme admirably. He even sang to his own accompaniment. When he got to “Land of Hope and Glory,” Gordon asked if he might not have cotton-wool in his ears. He also expressed a fear that all the other residents would come in asking Reeves to stop. But fortunately it was a time of day at which the residents are either in London on business, or going round the links like sensible men.
Meanwhile, under cover of Reeves’ barrage, the search was proceeding busily. “The ceiling,” said Carmichael, “is out of the question. Even if there was a concealed trap-door in it, it would be too risky to let down ladders and pull them up again. Now, how about the floor? There’s this felt under-carpet—I suppose that’s nailed down all right, Reeves?”
“Wider sti-ill, and wider,” sang Reeves,
“Nailed it down myself;
Bought it Tottenham Court Road
Just a yea-ear ago.”
“Well, nobody’s been in a position to take liberties with the carpet, that’s clear, and it goes right up to the edges of the floor, so I think we may rule the floor out too. Now, Gordon, you’ve four walls to choose from—one with the door in it, one opposite with the windows in it, one with the fireplace in it, and one blank, where the book-case stands. Which are you betting on?”
“I’m not betting on any. But I’m maintaining that the door wall is the one to search first, because we’ve only to open the door to see what thickness it is.”
“There’s something in that. Hullo! The door does stand in a bit of a recess. Where’s that tape measure? A foot and a half—hardly good enough, is it? You see, if you tap the panelling here the sound is quite dull, and that means there’s brick behind the panelling. And there’s something thicker than mere plaster on the passage side too. The mysterious gentleman can’t be quite as thin as all that. No bulges in the wall, except of course that big oak chest. Do you know what’s inside that chest, Reeves?”
“Yes, I ken that chest, it’s as full as can be
With my own odds and ends, and it’s all full of drawers,
And the key’s on the mantelpiece if you don’t believe me
With his hounds and his horn in the morning,”
was the reassuring, if not very metrical, reply.
“Then that does for the wall. Now, the window wall’s thick; you can see that from the window recesses. On the other hand, it’s got to carry the thickness of the outer wall, and the outer walls of Tudor buildings are generally pretty thick. Artillery, you see, had abolished the castle idea, but from force of habit they went on making their outside walls thick, because you never knew what might happen. And of course some of these brick houses did stand siege—you know Aston Hall, I expect, in Birmingham. It sounds genuine when you tap it, doesn’t it?”