We had established the practice of barring all the

gates and doors at nightfall. There was no way of

guarding against an attack from the lake, whose frozen

surface increased the danger from without; but we

counted on our night patrol to prevent a surprise from

that quarter. I was well aware that I must prepare to

resist the militant arm of the law, which Pickering

would no doubt invoke to aid him, but I intended to

exhaust the possibilities in searching for the lost treasure

before I yielded. Pickering might, if he would,

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transfer the estate of John Marshall Glenarm to Marian

Devereux and make the most he could of that service,

but he should not drive me forth until I had satisfied

myself of the exact character of my grandfather's fortune.

If it had vanished, if Pickering had stolen it

and outwitted me in making off with it, that was another

matter.

The phrase, "The Door of Bewilderment," had never

ceased to reiterate itself in my mind. We discussed a

thousand explanations of it as we pondered over the

scrap of paper I had found in the library, and every

book in the house was examined in the search for further

clues.

The passage between the house and the chapel seemed

to fascinate Larry. He held that it must have some

particular use and he devoted his time to exploring it.

He came up at noon-it was the twenty-ninth of

December-with grimy face and hands and a grin on his

face. I had spent my morning in the towers, where it

was beastly cold, to no purpose and was not in a mood

for the ready acceptance of new theories.

"I've found something," he said, filling his pipe.

"Not soap, evidently!"

"No, but I'm going to say the last word on the tunnel,

and within an hour. Give me a glass of beer and a

piece of bread, and we'll go back and see whether we're

sold again or not."

"Let us explore the idea and be done with it. Wait

till I tell Stoddard where we're going."

The chaplain was trying the second-floor walls, and

I asked him to eat some luncheon and stand guard while

Larry and I went to the tunnel.

We took with us an iron bar, an ax and a couple of

hammers. Larry went ahead with a lantern.

"You see," he explained, as we dropped through the

trap into the passage, "I've tried a compass on this

tunnel and find that we've been working on the wrong

theory. The passage itself runs a straight line from

the house under the gate to the crypt; the ravine is a

rough crescent-shape and for a short distance the tunnel

touches it. How deep does that ravine average-about

thirty feet?"

"Yes; it's shallowest where the house stands. it

drops sharply from there on to the lake."




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