d well out from the wall. I measured with the
tape-line, my hands trembling so that I could scarcely hold it. They
extended two feet and a half into each room, which, with the three feet
of space between the two partitions, made eight feet to be accounted
for. Eight feet in one direction and almost seven in the other--what a
chimney it was!

But I had only located the hidden room. I was not in it, and no amount
of pressing on the carving of the wooden mantels, no search of the
floors for loose boards, none of the customary methods availed at all.
That there was a means of entrance, and probably a simple one, I could
be certain. But what? What would I find if I did get in? Was the
detective right, and were the bonds and money from the Traders' Bank
there? Or was our whole theory wrong? Would not Paul Armstrong have
taken his booty with him? If he had not, and if Doctor Walker was in
the secret, he would have known how to enter the chimney room.
Then--who had dug the other hole in the false partition?

CHAPTER XXXII

ANNE WATSON'S STORY

Liddy discovered the fresh break in the trunk-room wall while we were
at luncheon, and ran shrieking down the stairs. She maintained that,
as she entered, unseen hands had been digging at the plaster; that they
had stopped when she went in, and she had felt a gust of cold damp air.
In support of her story she carried in my wet and muddy boots, that I
had unluckily forgotten to hide, and held them out to the detective and
myself.

"What did I tell you?" she said dramatically. "Look at 'em. They're
yours, Miss Rachel--and covered with mud and soaked to the tops. I
tell you, you can scoff all you like; something has been wearing your
shoes. As sure as you sit there, there's the smell of the graveyard on
them. How do we know they weren't tramping through the Casanova
churchyard last night, and sitting on the graves!"

Mr. Jamieson almost choked to death. "I wouldn't be at all surprised
if they were doing that very thing, Liddy," he said, when he got his
breath. "They certainly look like it."

I think the detective had a plan, on which he was working, and which
was meant to be a coup. But things went so fast there was no time to
carry it into effect. The first thing that occurred was a message from
the Charity Hospital that Mrs. Watson was dying, and had asked for me.
I did not care much about going. There is a sort of melancholy
pleasure to be had out of a fun