I am glad in this way to settle the Gray Lady story, which is still a
choice morsel in Casanova. I believe the moral deduced by the village
was that it is always unlucky to throw a stone at a black cat.
With Johnny Sweeny a cloud of dust down the road, and the dinner-hour
approaching, I hurried on with my investigations. Luckily, the roof
was flat, and I was able to go over every inch of it. But the result
was disappointing; no trap-door revealed itself, no glass window;
nothing but a couple of pipes two inches across, and standing perhaps
eighteen inches high and three feet apart, with a cap to prevent rain
from entering and raised to permit the passage of air. I picked up a
pebble from the roof and dropped it down, listening with my ear at one
of the pipes. I could hear it strike on something with a sharp,
metallic sound, but it was impossible for me to tell how far it had
gone.
I gave up finally and went down the ladder again, getting in through
the ball-room window without being observed. I went back at once to
the trunk-room, and, sitting down on a box, I gave my mind, as
consistently as I could, to the problem before me. If the pipes in the
roof were ventilators to the secret room, and there was no trap-door
above, the entrance was probably in one of the two rooms between which
it lay--unless, indeed, the room had been built, and the opening then
closed with a brick and mortar wall.
The mantel fascinated me. Made of wood and carved, the more I looked
the more I wondered that I had not noticed before the absurdity of such
a mantel in such a place. It was covered with scrolls and panels, and
finally, by the merest accident, I pushed one of the panels to the
side. It moved easily, revealing a small brass knob.
It is not necessary to detail the fluctuations of hope and despair, and
not a little fear of what lay beyond, with which I twisted and turned
the knob. It moved, but nothing seemed to happen, and then I
discovered the trouble. I pushed the knob vigorously to one side, and
the whole mantel swung loose from the wall almost a foot, revealing a
cavernous space beyond.
I took a long breath, closed the door from the trunk-room into the
hall--thank Heaven, I did not lock it--and pulling the mantel-door wide
open, I stepped into the chimney-room. I had time to get a hazy view
of a small portable safe, a common wooden table and a chair--then the
mantel door swung to, and clicked behind me. I stood quite still for a
moment, in the darkness, unable to comprehend what had happened. Then
I turned and beat furiously at the door with my fists. It was closed
and locked again, and my fingers in the darkness slid over a smooth
wooden surface without a sign of a knob.