and the oaken tread glided back toward them
with the greatest ease, like a well-made drawer.

"Mind!" shouted Fred. And they snatched away their fingers just in time
to save a nasty pinch, for the board came swiftly back into its
position. There was a sharp _crick-crack_, and the stair was as solid
as before, and the broad stain from the painted window lay in its old
place on the dark brown wood.

Scarlett Markham turned and stared at Fred Forrester, and Fred Forrester
turned and stared at him.

"I say, what do you think of that?" said Scarlett.

"I don't know. What do you?"

"I don't know either," said Scarlett, trying to move the board again.
But it was firm as the rest of the stairs.

"Did you see that baluster?" said Fred.

"See it? No. What do you mean?"

"It seemed to me to move and make that noise."

"Nonsense! How could it?"

"I don't know, but it was just the same noise as it made when you missed
your hold and swung round."

"So it was; and I had hold of it," said Scarlett, thoughtfully, as he
laid his hand on the piece of turned and carved wood. "But it's quite
firm." He gave it a shake, but with no effect. "You come and try," he
said.

Fred took his place, and shook the baluster, then the other--its
fellow--but there was no result.

"I don't know what to make of this," said Scarlett. "I wonder whether
all the stairs are made the same. There, never mind; let's go and
fish."

"Stop a moment!" cried Fred, excitedly. "Look here; you can turn this
thing half round. See!"

"Well, that's only because it's loose. They're getting old and--"

_Crick-crack_!

Scarlett Markham started back, so quick and sudden was the sound, but
only to resume his position on his knees before the oaken stair-tread,
which again yielded to a thrust, and glided under the landing once more,
leaving the opening the length and breadth of the great stair.

"Why, it's like the lid of a sliding box, Scar," cried Fred. "Now then,
let's pull it over once more. But look here, it won't go any further."

This was the case, for about an inch of the carved front was left for
them to take hold of and draw it back, which they did, the board gliding
easily toward them, and closing with a loud snap.

"There! I did see it then," cried Scarlett.

"What?"

"That baluster. It half twisted round. Why, Fred, it's a hiding-place.
Here, let's open it again. Perhaps it's full of gold."

Fred was quite willing, for h