l?"

Her brother crouched and lifted the edge of the brocaded cover which
swept to the floor. To Val's surprise a thin line of light showed along
the wall at the head of the bed.

"Ricky, look behind the head of the bed! Is it fast against the wall?"

She started to the tall canopied head and pulled the faded fabrics away
from the paneling. "No, there's about two feet here at the bottom. It
doesn't show because the canopy covers it. And, Val, there's an opening
here! Satan's trying to get through!"

"We need a flashlight."

"I'll get Rupert's. Val, promise not to go in--if it _is_ a door--until
I come back!"

"Of course; but hurry."

The flashlight revealed a wide panel which slid upward. Time and damp
had warped the wood so that it no longer fitted snugly to the floor as
the builder had intended. But the same warping made the door defy their
efforts to raise it any higher. At last, by prying and pounding, they
got it up perhaps a yard from the floor. Satan slipped through and they
followed on hands and knees.

They crawled into a small room lighted by two round windows set like
eyes in the side wall. More than three-quarters of the space was filled
with furniture and boxes wrapped in tarred canvas. The choking dust and
general mustiness of the long-closed apartment drove Val to investigate
the window fastenings and throw them open to the morning air.

"There must be another door somewhere," he said, calling Ricky away from
a box where she was picking at the knotted rope which bound it. "All
these things couldn't have been brought through that hole behind the
bed."

"Here it is," she said a moment later, pointing to an oblong set flush
with the wall. "It's bolted on this side."

"Let me open it and see where we are." Val fumbled at the rusty latch,
but he had to use an iron poker from a discarded fire stand in the
corner before he could hammer it back. Again the door resisted their
efforts to push it open until Val flung his full weight against it. With
a snapping report it swung open and he sprawled forward into the short
hall which had once led into the garden wing, an ell of the house
destroyed by roving British raiders during the days of 1815. The only
wholly wooden portion of the house, it had been burnt and never rebuilt.

"Come on," Ricky pulled at Val's sleeve, "let's explore."

He looked at his black hands. "I would suggest some soap and water,
several brooms, and some dusting cloths if we're go