LITMIR.BIZ

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were more scared than she was!” Zizi leaned eagerly forward, almost spilling off her chair, in her interested attention.

      “I believe I was,” said Stebbins, solemnly. “Anyways, I went out, vowin’ never to do any more spook work,—and I never did.”

      “All that tallies with my discoveries so far,” Zizi nodded, “now what I’m after, is the way you got in.”

      “That’s a secret,” and Stebbins squirmed uneasily.

      “A secret entrance, you mean?”

      “Yes’m. And how to get into it is a secret that has been known only to the owner of that house, for generations,—ever since it was built. Whenever anybody bought it or inherited it, he was told the secret entrance, and sworn never to tell of it.”

      “But, look here, Mr. Stebbins, your entrance to that house, or whatever it is, was seen by somebody. That somebody used it afterward, and played ghost, and committed crime, and even stole the body of that poor little girl away. Also, some one carried me,—me! if you please, out by that secret passage, and tried to drown me! Now, do you think it is your duty to remain silent, because of that old oath of secrecy?”

      Zizi had risen and stood over him like a small but terrifying avenging angel. If she had brandished a flaming sword, it could not have impressed Eli Stebbins more than her burning black eyes’ glance.

      Her long, thin arms were outspread, her slim body poised on tiptoe and her accusing, condemning face was white and strained in its earnestness.

      “No, ma’am, I don’t!” and Stebbins rose, too. “Come with me, Miss; I’ll go with you and I’ll show you that secret entrance, nobody could ever find it alone, and I’ll own up to all I did, wrong or right. I’m no murderer, and I’ll not put a straw in the way of findin’ out who is.”

      In triumph, Zizi entered the hall of Black Aspens, leading her captive. Though it must be admitted Stebbins came willingly.

      “This here’s my house,” he said, with an air of importance, “and so far’s I’m responsible for queer goin’s on, I’ll confess. And after that, you, Mr. Detective, can find out who carried on the hocus-pocus.”

      “Thank you, Mr. Stebbins,” said Pennington Wise, gravely. “Suppose we ask all the members of the household to be present at your revelations.”

      “Not the Thorpes, or them servant maids, if you please. They ain’t none of ’em implicated, and why let ’em know what’s goin’ on?”

      “That’s right,” said Zizi. “Whatever we learn may not be entirely given to the public. Just call the rest of the party, Pen.”

      As it happened, the men were all in the hall talking with Wise when Stebbins arrived, so Zizi went in search of the women. They were congregated in Milly’s room, and as they came downstairs, the detective noted their expressions, a favourite method with him of gaining information.

      Milly’s round little face was so red and swollen with weeping, that it excited only compassion in any observer. Norma, too, was sad and frightened-looking, but Eve was in a defiant mood, and her scarlet lips were curved in a disdainful smile.

      “As we’re all at one in our search for the criminal,” Wise began, tactfully, “I think it best that we should hear, all together, Mr. Stebbins’ explanation of how this house may be entered from outside, though apparently locked and bolted against intrusion.”

      “I should think, Mr. Wise,” said Eve, scornfully, “that if there were such a possibility, your detective genius ought to have discovered it.”

      “He couldn’t,” said Stebbins, simply. “It ain’t a means that any one could discover.”

      “Then how did the criminal find it out?” demanded Eve.

      “He must have seen me come in by it,” Stebbins replied. “Nobody could ever suspect the real way.”

      “Oh, come now,” said Zizi, “Mr. Wise does know. He is not at all vain glorious, or he would tell you himself. But he prefers to let Mr. Stebbins tell.”

      “Is that so, Mr. Wise?” asked Professor Hardwick, eagerly. “If you have discovered the secret entrance, I wish you would say so. I feel chagrined that my own reasoning powers have given me no hint.”

      “I have satisfied myself of the means and the location of the entrance,” Wise returned, “but I have not examined the place definitely enough to find the hidden spring that must be there.”

      “You know that much!” cried Stebbins, in amazement.

      “Yes, largely by elimination. There are no hollow walls, no false locks, no sliding panels,—it seems to me there is no logical hidden entrance, but through one of those columns,” and he pointed to the great bronze columns that flanked the doorway.

      “By golly!” and Stebbins stared at the speaker. “You’ve hit it, sir!”

      “I could, of course, find the secret spring, which must be concealed in the ornamentation,” Wise went on, “but I’ve hesitated to draw attention to the columns by working at them. Suppose we let Mr. Stebbins tell us, and not try to find what we know must be cleverly concealed.”

      “But wait a minute,” pleaded Hardwick. “I’m terribly interested in this proof of Mr. Wise’s perspicacity. You needn’t touch the column, but tell us your theory of its use. Is there a sliding opening in the solid bronze?”

      “I think not,” and Wise smiled. “I may be all wrong, I really haven’t looked closely, but my belief is that one or both of those great columns, which, as you see, are half in and half out of the hall, must swing round, revolve, you know,—and so open a way out.”

      “Exactly right!” and Stebbins sprang toward the column that was on the side of the hall toward the Room with the Tassels. “That’s the secret. Nobody ever so much as dreamed of it before! See, you merely press this acorn in this bronze oak wreath, half-way up, press it pretty hard, and the column swings round.”

      They crowded closer to see, and learned that the column was made in two half sections, one in the hall and one outside. These, again, were divided horizontally, about seven feet above the floor, and the joint concealed by a decorative wreath of bronze oak boughs.

      The column was hollow, and one half the shaft revolved within the other, which, in turn, revolved over the first, so that by successive movements of the two, one could pass right through the vestibule wall, and close the opening after him, leaving no trace of his entry or exit. The vestibule wall, of mahogany, concealed the longitudinal joint in the column when closed. The doors were hinged to this wooden wall, and were opened and closed, and locked, quite independently of the columns. Owing to perfectly adjusted ball bearings, and a thoroughly oiled condition, the mechanism worked easily and soundlessly.

      “The whole contraption was brought from Italy,” Stebbins informed them, “by the original Montgomery. I don’t think he ever used it for any wrong doings, though they do say, soldiers was smuggled through in war times, and contraband smuggling went on, too. But those is only rumours and probably exaggerated.”

      “You exaggerated the ghost stories, too, didn’t you, Mr. Stebbins?” asked Wise.

      “I didn’t need to, sir. Those yarns of the Shawled Woman, have been told and retold so many years now, they’ve grown way beyond their first facts, if there ever was any truth to ’em. This here column, only one of ’em revolves,—has always been kept secret, but when the little witch child made me see it was my duty to tell of it, tell of it I did. Now, sir, go ahead and find who committed them dastardly murders and I’ll consider I did right to break my oath of secrecy.”

      “No one will blame you for it,” said Professor Hardwick, who was still experimenting with the revolving column. “This is a marvellous piece of workmanship, Landon. I never saw such before.”

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