ry thought that this would be a good opportunity for her to make
her request.

"May we try again to open the chest, please, uncle?" she asked.

"What chest, child?"

"Why, the oak chest in the old wing. We do so want to see what's in it."

"Nonsense, Marjory. I tell you it has been there ever since I can
remember, and there's nothing in it as far as I know." Seeing the
disappointment in the young people's faces as he said this, he relented,
saying, "Well, well, I suppose I must let you have your way. You may try
if you like, but I won't have you using any tools. It's a fine old piece
of wood, and I don't want it spoiled."

They readily promised not to do any harm to the box, and as soon as
dinner was over they hurried off to the old part of the house, Alan
feeling rather flattered by Marjory's suggestion that he might be able
to find some way of opening the chest.

There was no sign of any lock except the one in front, which they had
tried before, and in which none of the keys would turn. The lid fitted
firmly and smoothly, and so tightly that its joining with the box was
hardly visible. It was a magnificent specimen of cabinet work.

"Of course it may have a spring," said Marjory, "if only we knew where
to find it."

At this suggestion they all set to work to push and thump and press, but
as before their efforts were of no avail.

Marjory wondered to herself whether the same ingenious person who had
contrived the secret door upstairs might have made this box.

"Suppose we turn it round, and see what the hinges look like," said
Alan.

They managed to drag it out from the wall, bringing with it masses of
black cobwebs and the dust of many years.

Alan's idea was a good one; but there were no hinges to be seen.

"I believe the lock and the hasps are nothing but false ones to put
people off the scent," said Alan. "What a beastly mess," rubbing the
cobwebs off his hands on to his knickerbockers. "I believe this is a
puzzle chest, and it opens in some secret way like Mrs. Shaw's box.
We're having quite a run of secrets."

How Blanche longed to tell Alan of the room upstairs! It was all she
could do to prevent herself from speaking of it.

Hot and breathless from their efforts in moving the box, the three sat
down to rest and to consult as to their next attempt.

"I don't believe there is a lock at all," Alan repeated, and he began
once more to examine the lid of the chest. After some little time he
sudden