* * * * *

We dined below presently, very excellently. The room was hung with
green, with panels of another pattern upon it; and the dishes were put
in through a little hatch from the kitchen passage. My man James waited
with the rest, and acquitted himself very well. Then after dinner, when
the servants were gone away, my Cousin Tom carried me out, with a
mysterious air, to the foot of the stairs.

"Now look well round you, Cousin Roger," he said, when he had me
standing there; "and see if there be anything that would draw your
attention."

I looked this way and that but saw nothing; and said so.

"Have you ever heard of Master Owen," he said, "of glorious memory?"

"Why, yes," I said, "he was a Jesuit lay-brother, martyred under
Elizabeth: and he made hiding-holes, did he not?"

"Well; he hath been at work here. Look again, Cousin Roger."

I turned and saw my Cousin Dorothy smiling--(and it was a very pretty
sight too!)--but there was nothing else to be seen. I beat with my foot;
and it rang a little hollow.

"No, no; those are the cellars," said my Cousin Tom.

I beat then upon the walls, here and there; but to no purpose; and then
upon the stairs.