"It is only that I should like to present our story in attractive
form--one which would be read by worldly people."
"A laudable ambition. But what is the predicament you speak of?"
"The predicament is more directly my own; the situation, Ah Ben's."
"Perhaps if you will explain them, I might aid you."
"You might indeed," she answered seriously, rising from the table;
"but it would be premature. Let us go into the garden."
She led the way through the back of the house out into the old-fashioned
yard, where boxwood bushes and chrysanthemums, together with other
autumnal flowers, adorned the beds. They walked down a straight path
and seated themselves upon a rustic bench in full view of the edifice.
Paul lighted a cigarette and watched the strange old building before
him, while Dorothy was content to sit and look at him, as though he
were some new variety of man just landed from the planet Mars. Presently
she arose and wandered down the path in search of a few choice blossoms,
leaving Paul alone, who watched her until she disappeared among the
shrubbery.
Sitting quietly smoking his cigarette, Mr. Henley became absorbed in
a critical study of the quaint old pile which had so suddenly risen
to abnormal interest in his eyes. A part of the structure was falling
rapidly to decay, while other portions were so deeply embedded in ivy
and other creeping things that it was impossible to discover their
actual state of preservation. The windows were small and far apart,
and Paul recognized his own by its bearing upon a certain tree which
he had noticed while looking out upon the previous night. Following
down the line of the wall, he was surprised to find a large space
which was not pierced by either door or window, and naturally began
to wonder what manner of apartment lay upon the opposite side, where
neither light nor air were admitted. The wall, to be sure, was
covered with Virginia creeper, which had made its way to the roof,
but it was evident that it concealed no opening. Then his thoughts
wandered back to the mysterious well, and he began to wonder if the
closed door at the bottom connected with the unaccounted-for space
behind this wall. His curiosity grew as he brooded upon this
possibility--a possibility which he now conceded to be a certainty as
he marked the configuration of the building. The blank wall was
beneath his bedroom. The well descended directly into it, or upon one
side of it, and communicated with it through the door mentioned.
There was nothing to be learned by inquiry, and Henley determined to
make another effort to force open the door. His resolution was not
entirely the result of curiosity, for he had taken such a sudden and
strong liking for the girl that he disliked the thought of leaving
her; and yet the riddle of her environment was such that he conceived
it to be no more than a proper regard for his own safety to take such
a precaution while visiting her. Having reached this determination,
he cast about for the means of executing it. He thought he should
require a hammer and a cold chisel, but where such were to be found
he could not conceive. Moreover, even were they in his possession, it
was impossible to see exactly how he could make use of them without
arousing the household. He thought of various devices, such as a
muffled hammer, or a crowbar to wrench the door from its hinges, but
these were discarded in turn as impracticable, from the fact that
they were unobtainable. He looked about him among the shrubbery, but
there was nothing to aid him; and, indeed, how could he expect to
find tools where there were no servants to use them? He got up and
walked down the path, absorbed in reverie, and although unable to
devise any immediate plan to accomplish the task, his resolution
became more fixed as he dwelt upon it. He would risk all things in
opening that door, and was impatient for an opportunity to renew the
effort. Then the girl's voice came floating through the air in a
plaintive melody, and Henley was recalled to his surroundings. In
another minute she had joined him.