“I’ll tell you what,” said Percy: “we must get upon the top of the wall somehow and look down. I expect we can climb up by the ivy.”
The ivy outside was probably older than that inside the hall; at any rate it was thicker and reached higher. We therefore went outside, and choosing a spot where the mass of leaves was at least three feet in thickness and the stem of the plant about six inches in diameter, we went scrambling to the top and then made our way along the uneven surface of the broken wall until we came to the hole we were seeking, which we found to be level with the top of the wall and half concealed by the ivy.
Apparently we were no better off than before, however. We could see nothing, and we were afraid to attempt the descent of the inside of the chimney, for a fall to the bottom would pretty certainly result in some broken bones, to say nothing of a broken neck.
“Look here, Percy,” said I, “let us go back to the vicarage and bring up a rope—there is one in the gardener’s tool-house, I know—and then we will fasten it to something and climb down the chimney.”
This suggestion met with Percy’s approval; and in half an hour we were back again, rope in hand.
“Do you think you can hold it, Tom, while I go down?” asked Percy.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “The rope is rather small, and it might slip through my hands. If we can take a turn with it round something I could hold it then.”
After a short search we found, some distance below the top of the wall, a dressed stone imbedded in the masonry and projecting about eighteen inches into the dining-hall. What it was there for we did not know, nor did we care, so long as it would serve our purpose. After one or two casts I succeeded in looping the rope under the stone, when, firmly holding one end, I sat down on the edge of the chimney With my feet braced against the other side and gave the word to Percy to descend.
Having the rope to hold by, Percy found no difficulty in scrambling down the dark hole until his feet came against the uppermost of three little ledges built in the sloping wall of the chimney. Securing a firm foothold, he took from his pocket a fragment of candle, lighted it, and commenced spying up and down for an opening. None was to be seen; three of the walls, at any rate, were solid. He turned round on the ledge. There, close against his face, was a dark passage about two feet square, so cleverly placed in the overhanging wall as to be invisible either from above or below.
“Tom!” My name came booming up the chimney.