Part 13 (1/2)

After a while she asked, without turning her head--

”If you were to make a will, what would you put in it?”

”I'll show you.”

”When?”

”Now. There's a secret hiding-place in this room. If you tried do you think that you could find it?”

”I'd find it fast enough.”

”Then find it.”

”What sort of place is it?”

”That's asking for a.s.sistance. I'll give you this much. It's in the wall, concealed by a panel of wood. Now I've given you the scent, follow it to a finish--if you can.”

”In a room like this there might be fifty hiding-places.”

”There might.”

”It would take days to examine it thoroughly; however long it might take me I'd find it. I'd strip the walls of everything before I'd give it up.”

”I don't think you need go so far as that just yet. Look round; you've hawk's eyes; I've given you a hint; can't you make a likely guess, like the sharp-witted child who is playing hide-and-seek?”

Isabel's glances were travelling round the room searchingly, resting here and there, allowing nothing to escape them. When they had traversed the whole apartment from floor to ceiling in one direction they returned in another.

”You are not tricking me? There really is a secret hiding-place?”

”There really is.”

”And you say it's behind a panel in the wall?”

”That's it.”

Her eyes in their return journey had reached the great wooden fireplace. Although she did not know it, it was a fine specimen of old carving. What she did notice were the rounded posts which served as pillars. There were four, two longer and two shorter, each supporting a shelf on which there were ornaments. She wondered if the posts would turn. Probably something recurred to her mind which she had read about a movable post, though she could not have said just what it was or where she had read it.

She had a notion that she would try if the posts in the fireplace turned, when she was stopped by a remark which came from the man in the bed.

”You're looking in the wrong place; so as I don't want your search to occupy you days, I'll tell you where it is.” Even as he spoke it struck her--rather as a vague suspicion than anything else--that he did not want her to pay too much attention to the fireplace. She waited for him to continue, which he did at once. ”You see the bracket in the corner on my left. Go to it. Take down the vase which stands upon it, then lift the bracket out of its socket.” She did as he told her.

”You see the boss just at the top of the socket. That releases the catch. Press it, then slide upwards that part of the panel which is immediately at your right.”

Again she followed his directions. A portion of the woodwork, three or four inches wide, and about a foot in length, yielding to her touch, disclosed an open s.p.a.ce behind.

”There's an envelope in it, a blue envelope; take it out.”

There was an envelope, apparently nothing else. On the front was an inscription, whose crabbed characters had apparently been written by a feminine hand. ”This envelope contains Cuthbert Grahame's will, and is not to be opened till after his death.”

The two flaps at the back were secured by big red seals.

”Never mind what it says. I'm Cuthbert Grahame, and I tell you to open the envelope, although I don't happen to be dead. Take out the paper which you'll find inside. Read it; you can read it aloud if you like.”