But
there was no more to be seen than a cracked panel, which, it seemed to
her, had once been nearer the door. She rapped upon this, but it gave
back the dull sound as of wood against stone.
She turned to the young man, smiling. He smiled back.
"Come into the bedroom, mistress."
He led her in there, through the passage outside into which the two
doors opened at the head of the outside stairs; but here, too, all that
she could see was that a tall press that had once stood between the
windows now stood against the wall immediately opposite to the painted
panel on the other side of the wall. She opened the doors of the press,
but it was as it had always been: there even hung there the three or
four dresses that she had taken from it last night and laid on the bed.
She laughed outright, and, turning, saw Mistress Alice Babington beaming
tranquilly from the door of the room.
"Come in, Alice," she said, "and see this miracle."
Then he began to explain it.
* * * * *
On this side was the entrance proper, and, as he said so, he stepped up
into the press and closed the doors. They could hear him fumbling
within, then the sound of wood sliding, and finally a muffled voice
calling to them. Marjorie flung the doors open, and, save for the
dresses, it was empty. She stared in for a moment, still hearing the
movements of someone beyond, and at last the sound of a snap; and as she
withdrew her head to exclaim to Alice, the young man walked into the
room through the open door behind her.
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