know what I am
thinking, Marguerite?"

"Something romantic and mysterious, I am sure!" said Margaret, smiling.

"Something practical and businesslike, rather, _tres chere_. I am
thinking that for a concealment, if a concealment were necessary, this
is the finest house in the world. Come on!"

Peggy hung back, her round cheeks pale with dread; but she could not
bear to be left behind; and as Margaret and Rita plunged down the
narrow stair, she followed, with beating heart. She had longed all her
breezy little life for mystery, adventure, something wonderful to happen
to her, with which she could impress and awe the younger children; now
it had really come, and her heart beat with mingled terror and
excitement.

Down--down--down. The lamplight shone on the rough walls of discoloured
plaster, the old steps creaked beneath their tread; that was all. Now
they came to a tiny landing, and something gleamed before them,--the
brass handle of a door. Margaret hesitated, fearing that they might be
trenching on forbidden ground; but Rita opened the door quickly, and
Peggy pressed down behind her.

They saw a room, like the other bedrooms in the house, large and airy.
It was evidently ready for use, the bed neatly made, everything in
spotless order. Brushes and shaving-tools lay on the dressing-bureau.
The table was covered with books.

"Uncle John's room!" whispered Margaret. "It must be, of course; and
this is where the locked door is on the second story. Come along,
girls; we ought not to go prying into people's rooms!"

"My faith, I cannot see that!" retorted Rita. "If there were anything of
interest in the room,--but nothing--a plain room, and nothing more! A
pretty thing to end a secret staircase; he should have shame for it. But
come, as you say; we have yet a way to go down."

They closed the door carefully, and once more began the descent.
Down--down--down. But this second half of the way was different. The
staircase was wider, and the walls were cased in wood. Moreover, it
showed marks of usage. The steps above were covered with thick dust,
evidently long undisturbed; but these were clean and shining. Decidedly,
the mystery was deepening.

"Suppose we find it is just a back way to the servants' rooms!"
whispered practical Margaret.

"Suppose feedle-dee-dee!" said Rita; and her funny little foreign accent
on the word made Peggy choke and splutter behind her.

Now they were evidently approaching the ground floo