Softly, Nancy Drew closed the door. One quick glance toward the stairway had convinced her that she could not hope to escape into the corridor. Already the old colored woman, oil lamp in hand, had nearly reached the landing. Fortunately, she was fat and awkward and could not move swiftly. Nancy was thankful for that.

The ill-tempered parrot which had been the cause of all the trouble, was now fully awakened. It began to flutter about angrily in its cage and to squawk louder than before.

“Go ’way! Go ’way!” it screeched shrilly, cocking its head and eying her slyly.

“Oh, hush up, you horrid bird!” Nancy murmured in an undertone, as she scowled at the bird. “You’ve caused enough trouble as it is!”

She flashed her light about the room in a desperate attempt to find a hiding place. The room was bare of furniture.

She rushed to the window and glanced hopefully out. There was no ledge, and the drop to the ground would be suicide.

Nancy realized that she had never been in a more dangerous situation. She did not doubt that the old colored woman was as unscrupulous as her master, and what she would do if she found a stranger prowling in the house, Nancy dreaded to consider. At least she would turn her over to Nathan Gombet when he returned, and Nancy could think of no worse fate.

Nervously, she gripped her revolver. If the necessity arose, could she defend herself? She had never shot a firearm in her life at anything but a target, and she knew that she could never bring herself to the point of injuring a human being deliberately, even to save herself from capture. Yet, the revolver would serve as a bluff, and perhaps as an effective one.

“I can’t afford to be caught here,” she thought. “Even if I managed to escape it would put an end to my investigation, and I haven’t learned half enough yet!”

In her prior survey of the bird room, Nancy had failed to notice a closet door directly behind the parrot’s cage. Now, as her eyes turned again in that direction, she saw it for the first time.

With a low exclamation of pleasure and belief she glided toward it. Opening the door, she stepped inside and closed it after her.

She was not an instant too soon, for scarcely had she entered the dark recess when she heard the room door open. The colored woman came waddling into the room. She flashed her light into the corners of the room and looked about in a puzzled manner as though unable to understand what had caused the commotion of the birds.

“Go ’way! Go ’way!” the parrot cackled, harping on its eternal theme. “Polly wants a cracker.”

“How comes you so excited to-night, talk-bird?” the woman demanded crossly. “You carries on like a fool with all yo’ squawkin’ and speechifyin’!”

“Go ’way! Go ’way!” the parrot repeated mechanically, fluttering its wings and swinging saucily on its cage trapeze.

“Oh, nev’ mind, nev’ mind!” the negress grunted. “I’ll go ’way all right, but befo’ I goes I’s gwine cut off yo’ conversation!”

Provoked that the bird had caused her to make a special trip upstairs, she picked up a piece of heavy canvas from the floor and flung it over the parrot’s cage.

“I reckon dat’ll hold you fo’ a spell!” she muttered.

The parrot gave a last dismal squawk and then became quiet.

The woman stood beside the bird cage regarding it with satisfaction. She was not more than a yard or two from the closet door and if she had reached out her hand could have touched the handle.

Fearful lest she be discovered, Nancy pressed herself against the wall of the closet and remained motionless. She felt a tiny little knob pressing uncomfortably into the hollow of her back, but without a light she could not see what it was. Later, if she escaped detection, she intended to investigate.

Now, she knew that the slightest noise would bring the enemy down upon her in an instant. For some reason, the colored woman showed an inclination to remain even after she had covered the bird cage. Perhaps she sensed a foreign presence in the room. At all events she stood near the closet, listening.

The room was silent save for the twittering of the canaries. Nancy held her breath in suspense. Would she be discovered? It was a nerve-wracking moment.

Again the woman flashed her light about the room, but she did not turn toward the closet. After a last careful look around, she moved heavily toward the door. There she paused and appeared to reflect.

“Cain’t make out what upset that there bird all of a sudden,” she said to herself. “Reckons I ain’t gwine take no chances.”

With that, she went out and closed the door behind her. Nancy heard a peculiar grating sound, but was at a loss to explain it.

The colored woman shuffled down the corridor and as she descended the stairs to the lower floor, her footsteps gradually died away. After waiting several minutes, Nancy emerged from her hiding place. The air had become unpleasantly stuffy within the closet, and she was glad to get out.

Avoiding the parrot cage, she crept noiselessly to the door. She grasped the knob and pulled, but to her astonishment the door did not open. Again she tried, but without success.

The door was locked!

Now Nancy comprehended the significance of the peculiar grating noise she had heard directly after the negress had left the room. It was the sound of a key turning in the lock. She, Nancy Drew, was a prisoner in the bird room—the “chamber of horrors.”

“Now what shall I do?” Nancy questioned herself miserably. “Oh, why did I ever come to this horrible place, anyway?”

She sank down on the floor and tried to think of a way out of the predicament, but could not. Her zest for adventure had been her undoing.

“If I ever get out of here alive I’ll think twice before I go blundering into anything like this again,” she promised herself.

Presently, she walked over to the window and glanced toward the Turnbull mansion. If only she could wish herself safely back into her own room!

“And the worst part of it is that I haven’t discovered what I came to find out,” she mourned. “I’m sure there is a secret panel in this house, but now I’ll never find it. I’m certain it wouldn’t be in this room.”

Because there was nothing else to do, she began a half-hearted examination of the walls. As she had expected, she found nothing of interest. She was about to give up in disgust when a sudden thought came to her.

She recalled the knob she had felt within the closet. Probably it was nothing, but at least it would do no harm to have a look at it.

Flashing her light into the closet, she focused it upon the knob in question. It was a tiny thing and appeared to have no special purpose. Certainly it was not the right size to serve as an object upon which to hang clothing.

“I wonder what it is for?” the girl asked herself.

Curiously, Nancy stepped inside the closet and twisted the knob. She thought she heard a clicking noise. Was it only imagination?

Eagerly, she examined the back wall of the closet and her interest quickened. In the dim light she could make out a long crack. She tapped the wall with her knuckles, and it had a hollow sound.

“I believe I’ve stumbled upon something important,” Nancy thought excitedly.

With all her might she pushed upon the knob. Unexpectedly, a spring clicked and the entire side of the closet wall dropped down!

Nancy struggled to maintain her balance, but could not. She toppled forward and fell headlong down a steep flight of stone steps.

A low cry of pain escaped her, and then she lay still.

After Nancy Drew had plunged through the opening into the dark abyss, the closet wall clapped back into place. She did not hear the spring click, for before she reached the bottom of a long flight of stone stairs her head struck a hard object and she lost consciousness.

For several minutes she remained in a limp little heap at the bottom of the stairs. When at last she opened her eyes, she gave a little moan of pain, and tried to recollect what had happened.

She could see nothing, for she was enveloped in darkness. Gradually, she began to recall the events leading up to the sudden fall through the opening in the wall. She could remember pressing the tiny knob in the closet, but there her memory failed her. Evidently, she had found the secret panel and was now in an underground chamber.

As yet, Nancy was too badly shaken to realize the full importance of the discovery. She sat up and gingerly felt of her head. There was a big bump over her left eye.

“Lucky I wasn’t killed,” she murmured.

She scrambled slowly to her feet and moved first one limb and then another. She had been sorely bruised and scratched in the fall, but so far as she could tell no bones were broken.

In the descent she had lost both her revolver and flashlight, and she began to grope around in the dark, hoping to find them.

She found the revolver almost at her feet, but it required a diligent search before her hand struck the flashlight. It had lodged in a corner near the last step.

“I hope it isn’t broken,” she thought anxiously, as she picked it up.

To her relief, the flashlight had not been damaged. When she turned it on it worked perfectly, but its feeble light illuminated only a small portion of the surroundings.

Nancy saw that she had fallen to the very bottom of a long stone stairway. In vain she looked for the opening through which she had plunged. It had vanished as though by magic.

“That’s strange,” she murmured, bewildered. “I know I fell down those steps.”

Limping painfully up the stairs, she stared in astonishment at the solid wall at the top. She ran her hands up and down but could not find the hidden spring.

“Oh, well, I could probably find it if I hunted long enough,” she told herself. “But I’m only wasting valuable time. I’ve found the secret passage at last, and, the Fates being willing, I intend to find out where it leads. I can investigate this panel later when I have more time.”

Nancy cautiously descended into the tunnel. The steps were of crudely cut stone and led almost straight down into an inky, uncertain blackness. Beyond, stretched a passageway.

When she reached the bottom of the steps, she paused, undecided what to do. She did not know where the passage might lead; she might be walking into danger.

“I’ll chance it,” she decided. “I wouldn’t turn back for anything in the world now.”

The passageway which stretched uninvitingly before her was very narrow and only high enough for her to walk without bending over. The sides were built of brick and stone, but the material had begun to crumble and Nancy feared that at any moment a portion of the walls or ceiling might come tumbling down upon her.

“Well, here’s for it,” she decided resolutely.

She moved slowly forward, flashing her light ahead of her. The passage was unpleasantly damp and had an earthy smell. Moisture clung to the walls, and there was a cold breeze circulating.

“I must be underground,” she thought.

An awful silence reigned in the subterranean passage. The quiet was oppressive. With an anxious glance over her shoulder, Nancy went on.

Once she thought she heard a sigh from someone in distress. Involuntarily, she stopped to listen.

“I guess it was only the wind,” she told herself uncertainly.

On she went deeper into the labyrinth of darkness, feeling her way cautiously. The tiny light from her flashlight but dimly illuminated the passage, and she stumbled and groped her way along timidly. When she accidentally brushed against the stone walls or put out a hand to save herself from falling, the structure felt clammy and repulsive to the touch.

“Silly!” she chided herself sternly.

But in spite of her determination, she could not free her mind from unpleasant supposition. The gruesome sights she had seen in the bird room had made an unpleasant impression upon her. What if the colored woman had heard her fall down the stairs and knew the secret of the hidden panel in the closet? At this very moment she might be following.

Nancy shivered. In the subterranean passage, cries for help would never be heard. She would be entirely at the mercy of anyone who found her trespassing.

Her own footsteps seemed strangely loud and echoed in her ears. Oh, if only she would come to the end of the passage! Surely, it could not run on forever.

The air was cold and damp, and in a number of places water dripped from the ceiling. Nancy believed that it was rain dripping through the cracks in the cement. In that case she could not be far underground.

Where did the tunnel lead? Perhaps it came out in someone’s garden or a wood.

“And maybe to a graveyard.” Nancy shivered. “I’ve heard of such things. Anyway, I hope not. I’ve gone through enough for one night!”

Her head ached from the injury she had received, and she was tired from nervous strain. She was impatient to reach the end of the passage.

What would she find there? She could only hope that the exit would not be barred. If such were the case, she would be a prisoner in the underground vault. Of course she could always return to the entrance, but whether or not she could find the hidden spring which controlled the sliding panel was another matter.

After a time she stopped a moment to rest. As she paused she heard a sound directly behind her. Wheeling, she suppressed a cry of terror.

A big rat scurried by, almost at her feet.

“Ug!” Nancy shuddered. “I don’t like this place.”

Still, she would not turn back. After resting a few minutes she again proceeded.

The passage was no longer straight, but twisted and turned in a puzzling fashion. At one place she came to a point where two tunnels branched off. She hesitated, uncertain, which one to take.

After a short mental debate she selected the right hand one, but as she went on, could not help but feel she had chosen the wrong one. Perhaps she was returning to Gombet’s house, doubling back on her trail.

Anxiously, Nancy, glanced at her flashlight. She had forgotten to bring an extra battery and she did not know how long the present one would last. The bright light somewhat reassured her, but nevertheless she quickened her pace. She could think of nothing more horrifying than to be left without a light in such a gruesome place.

She tried to take note of the various turns in the tunnel but presently gave it up as a hopeless task. If she were forced to return, she must depend upon instinct to guide her.

“I hope I don’t get lost,” she worried. “That would be the crowning misfortune.”

At last her foot struck a hard object, and Nancy quickly turned her flashlight upon it. She had reached another stone step. Perhaps she was approaching the exit to the passageway.

The thought gave her new courage. As she peered ahead she saw a long flight of stone steps leading upward. Eagerly, she groped her way up them.

It seemed to her that the air became gradually warmer and less damp.

“I’m coming out of the tunnel at last,” she reasoned joyfully. “I wonder where I am?”

At last the stone steps came to an end, but to her chagrin, Nancy faced a solid wall.

“There must be a secret spring, if only I can find it,” she thought desperately.

Anxiously, she flashed her light over the wall. Near the top step she saw a tiny knob not unlike the one she had discovered in the closet of Nathan Grombet’s house. With a cry of satisfaction, she pushed upon it.

Slowly, the wall swung back, and in amazement Nancy passed through the opening. The panel grated shut behind her.

“This is positively spooky,” she laughed uncertainly. “Who ever dreamed there was a place like this anywhere near Cliffwood? It reminds me of the feudal castles. The man who built it certainly had funny ideas.”

If Nancy had expected to find herself at the mouth of the passage she was mistaken. Ahead of her was a steep flight of wooden stairs.

The steps were very old and offered treacherous footing, and the space between the walls was so narrow that it was with difficulty that she proceeded. She moved forward cautiously feeling each step.

She had climbed but a short distance when she stepped forward with her right foot and instead of striking a solid base, found nothing beneath. Only by grasping the step above did she save herself from a fall.

Quickly focusing the light down upon the step, she was able to see that the bottom of it was missing. The flooring had rotted entirely away.

“That was a lucky escape,” she said inwardly. “I might have broken my leg there.”

Carefully avoiding the hole, she moved on. A dozen more steps and she reached a landing. Here several narrow flights of stairs branched off. What could it mean? Where was she?

Nancy felt reasonably certain that that she was inside a house, but whether she had returned to Gombet’s dwelling, she had no way of telling.

After a slight hesitation she selected one of the flights and continued to climb. The steps were in terrible condition and at any moment she expected to crash through the half-decayed wood.

Far above, she thought she could see a dim light filtering through a crack, and she hurried eagerly on. She was so anxious to reach the top of the stairs that she failed to notice that her flashlight was growing dimmer and dimmer.

Just as she came to the end of the steps, the light blinked. Then for the first time Nancy glanced down and saw that the bulb was dim. The battery was nearly exhausted. A few moments more, and she would be plunged in darkness.

Ahead she caught a glimpse of a huge metal ring on the wall. What it was she had no idea, but it offered her her only hope of escape from the staircase.

Just as her hand reached out and grasped it, the flashlight flickered again. Then it went entirely out.

Nancy Drew was left in darkness.

Panic momentarily took possession of Nancy Drew as her light flickered out. She was a prisoner within the secret staircase. Without a light there was little hope that she could find the exit.

After her first fright had passed, she began to think more logically. Through a crack in the wall, a dim light filtered. Unquestionably, she had reached the end of the passage, and if only she could find the secret, the wall would open.

“Perhaps the metal ring will open the panel,” she thought hopefully.

Grasping it firmly with both hands, she pulled with all her strength. A trapdoor fell back so unexpectedly that Nancy nearly lost her balance and tumbled down the stairs. Only by maintaining her hold on the ring did she save herself.

Beyond the opening she could see a room. Where was she? Had she doubled back and thus returned to Nathan Gombet’s dwelling?

Scarcely daring to breath lest her presence be discovered, she crawled through the opening and hastily scrambled to her feet.

The room was dimly lighted by one window, and as she glanced toward it, Nancy was surprised to see the moonbeams shining upon the casement. Evidently, she had been within the passage for some time, as it had stopped raining.

In the dim light she could not make out her surroundings. She moved forward with the utmost caution. As she groped her way, she reached out with her hand and touched something. It was a piece of furniture. Eagerly, she felt of it, and then smiled broadly.

She knew that old highboy. She remembered seeing it the day she had searched the Turnbull attic!

Nancy’s anxiety fell from her like a cloak. She leaned against the highboy and chuckled softly. Now she knew where she was!

She had traveled from Gombet’s house underground to the Turnbull mansion. The stairs she had ascended had led up the side of the house to the attic. Undoubtedly, the other flights she had passed led to other portions of the old house.

But why had she failed to discover the trapdoor when she had first examined the attic, she asked herself. Certainly, she had made a thorough search.

“I can’t see a thing without a light,” she grumbled mentally. “I suppose I’ll have to wait until morning before I can investigate this attic again.”

Nancy did not close the trapdoor, for she was afraid that if she did she might never again find the spring which opened it. In the morning she would visit the attic and again enter the hidden staircase.

“Now I’ll go to my room and try to sleep,” she decided. “It’s long past midnight and I’m dead tired.”

Softly, she crept forward, feeling her way out of the attic. She found the stairs which led to the floor below, and quietly descended them.

“I hope Floretta and Rosemary don’t hear me,” she chuckled. “If they do they’ll think the ghost is abroad again.”

She slipped past Rosemary’s bedroom and reached her own in safety.

“What an adventure!” she sighed happily, as she closed the bedroom door behind her and lighted a candle. “What a night! I hope I’ll never go through another as harrowing. Still, I wouldn’t have missed it for worlds!”

Hastily, she undressed and crawled into bed, but she did not fall to sleep at once. Instead she lay awake staring up at the ceiling.

As she pieced together the information she had secured from every source, she comprehended the value of her night’s work. She understood it all now. Nathan Gombet was the guilty party. It was he who had visited the Turnbull mansion at frequent intervals, frightening the old ladies and stealing their valuables.

Since Nancy had learned that he wished to buy the Turnbull property at a ridiculously low figure, she had been convinced that it was Nathan who made nightly visits to the mansion, but without definite proof of her theory she could not lay her case before the authorities. Now she had the necessary proof!

Probably the secret tunnel which connected Gombet’s house with the Turnbull residence had been built before Civil War days, and had been planned as a protection against possible marauders. At that time the Turnbull brothers had been friendly and Nancy imagined that they used the passage frequently as a means of going from one house to the other. But with the Civil War, the brothers had become enemies, and the passageway had been closed up. With the passing of the years it had been forgotten, until now the descendants could recall nothing about it.

In some way, undoubtedly by accident, Nathan Gombet had stumbled upon the entrance. He had determined to use the knowledge to further his own ugly schemes.

“Probably there are openings on each floor,” Nancy thought. “It would be easy for Nathan to go from one room to another without being discovered, it would be just like him to hide and listen to any conversation he could!”

She recalled the strange threatening note she had received which had warned her not to meddle with the affairs of the Turnbulls. She was convinced that Gombet had sent the message. He had heard Floretta and Rosemary discussing the letter, and in that way had learned that she was expected to arrive.

The loss of the pocketbook, the silver spoon, the urn, the pin, and Floretta’s dresses could be easily explained. Nathan had entered the house by the secret staircase and had taken the things.

“There must be an opening into the library,” Nancy told herself. “I intend to find it to-morrow if I have to chop down the wall!”

It was no longer a mystery how the canaries had reached Floretta’s room. Probably Nathan had accidentally left the entrance to the tunnel open on one of his visits to the mansion, and the birds had flown through the opening and had found their way to the house, or possibly the miser had brought them with him.

The loud cry which had been heard in the night was easily explained. Nathan Gombet had fallen over the broken step on the stairway and had hurt himself.

“Served him right, too,” Nancy thought, with some pleasure.

Satisfied that she had solved the mystery, she turned over in bed and tried to go to sleep. But she could not. Worries began to beset her.

Until Nathan Gombet was brought to justice her work was not accomplished. It would not be easy to capture him, she knew, for the miser was a desperate man when crossed. If only her father were at home to give her advice!

“What can have become of him?” she fretted, as she tossed restlessly in bed. “I’m so worried. If I don’t hear from him to-morrow I must report him missing to the police!”

Not until it was nearly dawn did she fall into a troubled sleep.

When Nancy Drew opened her eyes the following morning, the sun was streaming in at her bedroom window. A quick glance at the clock on her dresser disclosed that it was fifteen minutes past nine.

“Horrors!” she cried, springing from the bed. “Why didn’t Floretta or Rosemary awaken me?”

She was provoked with herself that she had overslept on a morning when she had so much to do. Although she had gone through a trying ordeal the night before, she was none the worse for the experience, and arose feeling refreshed and eager for what the day might bring forth.

Hastily dressing, she hurried downstairs to find that breakfast was waiting.

“You have no idea how sorry I am,” she apologized contritely. “You shouldn’t have waited for me.”

“It doesn’t matter in the least,” Rosemary told her quietly, as the three sat down to the breakfast table. “This may be the last breakfast we’ll ever eat here.”

“Why, what do you mean?” Nancy glanced up quickly and noticed the sad expression on the faces of the Turnbull sisters.

“Nathan Gombet was here this morning,” Rosemary explained.

Nancy’s spoon clattered from her hand.

“He was here this morning?” she asked in astonishment.

“Yes, he came to repeat the offer he made us some time ago for the house.”

“That wasn’t an offer—it was a steal!”

“But in the light of what has happened here, we can’t expect to get much for the house.”

“You didn’t sell?” Nancy questioned anxiously.

“We have made up our minds to give up the house. Yes, we accepted his offer and told him that if he came back this afternoon we would sign the papers.”

“Then you haven’t signed anything yet?”

“Not yet,” Rosemary responded listlessly.

“Oh, I’m so glad!” Nancy cried impulsively. “If you had it would have spoiled everything. There is no need for you ever to leave your home,” she added impressively. “You see, I’ve solved the mystery at last.”

“You’ve solved the mystery?” Floretta demanded eagerly. “You know what became of our silver urn? Oh, it’s too good to be true!”

“I can’t lay hands on your urn this minute,” Nancy told her. “But I think I can get it within twenty-four hours.”

“Don’t keep us in suspense,” Rosemary begged. “Tell us everything. Is there really a ghost in our house?”

Nancy laughed.

“Nathan Gombet is the ghost—just as I suspected.”

“Are you certain?” Rosemary asked a trifle doubtfully. “He has been our neighbor for years and he offered to buy our house.”

“That’s just why he has been trying to frighten you. Because he wanted to force you to sell at his price.”

“I always thought Nathan was mean, but I had no idea he would do a thing like that,” Floretta said. “Have you really the proof that he is the guilty party? Unless you have, we wouldn’t dare accuse him.”

“I’ll show you my proof,” Nancy declared. “Come with me and I think you’ll be convinced.”

Hurrying to the kitchen, she secured a supply of candles, and then led the way to the attic. Wonderingly, Rosemary and Floretta followed.

Nancy flung open the door and permitted the Turnbull sisters to enter first.

“I have discovered a hidden stairway,” she informed them, as she flashed her candle in the direction of the old highboy.

Rosemary and Floretta took one look and gasped in astonishment. The secret stairway was plainly revealed for the trapdoor was open just as Nancy had left it the night before.

“Who ever dreamed of a hidden staircase in our house?” Floretta demanded in excitement.

“There were rumors to that effect,” Rosemary admitted. “But I never believed them. Just think how many times we’ve been in this attic and never discovered the trapdoor!”

“It was very cleverly hidden,” Nancy told them. “I searched and couldn’t find it myself from the outside.”

“Where does the stairway lead?” Floretta asked, peering into the dark recess.

“It leads to a tunnel which connects The Mansion with Nathan Gombet’s house.”

“And he’s been entering our house nightly by means of this staircase?” Floretta questioned.

“I’m convinced of it.”

“But how did you ever make the discovery?” Rosemary broke in admiringly.

Nancy then told the details of her harrowing experience in the Gombet residence. She ended by showing them the bump on her head which had been caused by falling down the stone steps.

“You might have been killed,” Floretta shuddered. “And imagine going through that passage all alone in the dead of night! It must have been terrible! I never could have done it.”

“I’ll admit I didn’t enjoy the experience,” Nancy replied. “But it was the only way to solve the mystery.”

Rosemary, who had been studying the entrance to the staircase meditatively, now turned to Nancy with a puzzled frown.

“There’s one thing that isn’t clear to me. I don’t see how Nathan took our silver urn from the library and managed to escape without being caught. In order to reach this staircase it would be necessary for him to pass our bedrooms. Surely, we would have heard him.”

“That puzzles me too,” Nancy admitted. “But I have a theory which I intend to investigate this morning. I believe there must be another opening to this staircase on the floor below.”

“Perhaps there’s one in every room,” Floretta speculated.

“It wouldn’t surprise me to find one on every floor,” Nancy stated.

“But we searched thoroughly,” Rosemary protested. “We went over every inch of the walls.”

“That’s true. But I believe it will be easier to find the openings from the inside. I intend to enter the staircase again and try to find them. Last night I remember that several flight of stairs branched off from one landing. I want to find out where they lead. Do you want to go with me?”

“Certainly,” Rosemary declared promptly. “I have a great curiosity to see what the stairway is like.”

“It’s so old we must be careful not to fall,” Nancy warned her. “One of the steps has rotted away entirely.”

As she spoke, she stepped through the opening into the passageway. Rosemary boldly followed, but Floretta hesitated uncertainly.

“What if the trapdoor should fall shut?” she questioned anxiously.

“I’m sure it won’t,” Nancy reassured her. “But even if it does, I can open it again. See, here is the hidden spring.”

She held her candle so that the beam illuminated the metal ring which controlled the door. Still, Floretta hesitated.

“Do hurry,” Rosemary commanded impatiently. “There’s no danger.”

Floretta folded her skirts tightly about her to prevent them from brushing against the dusty walls, and then timidly descended the first step.

“I don’t like it,” she choked. “The dust is terrific and the cobwebs—ug!” Nevertheless, she did not turn back.

Cautiously, Nancy Drew led the way down the wooden stairs, taking care to avoid the broken step. At the landing she selected one of the passages which led in another direction, and descended the stairs until she came to another landing.

As she flashed her light about, her keen eyes caught the gleam of a metal ring. She seized upon it eagerly.

“This must open a panel,” she cried, in excitement.

As she pulled upon the ring, the wall fell away, and to her amazement she stepped into a closet which was filled with garments.

“Where are we?” she demanded.

“Why, we must be in my room!” Floretta gasped. “Now I understand what became of my silk dresses and the diamond pin!”

“It’s clear Nathan must have entered the room by means of the secret panel in the closet,” Rosemary observed.

“But how did the canaries get in?” Floretta demanded.

“They might have flown through the passage and entered the room when the panel was open,” Nancy suggested.

“That’s very likely,” Rosemary agreed. “It’s no wonder we thought the walls had ears. It’s my opinion Nathan has been hiding in the staircase listening to everything we say. It frightens me to think of it!”

“I feel confident it was Nathan Gombet who sent me the threatening letter advising me not to come to this house,” Nancy declared. “Can you remember whether or not you read my letter aloud after it arrived?”

“Yes, we did,” Floretta responded quickly. “And we were in this very bedroom too! Nathan must have been listening and heard every word!”

“It’s clear enough now,” Rosemary said caustically. “That man thought he could frighten us from our home. To think we nearly sold The Mansion to him!”

“Shall we investigate the other passages?” Nancy questioned. “Our time is getting short and I’m eager to find out where they lead.”

“By all means,” Rosemary agreed.

Without taking time to close the panel after them, the three descended the hidden stairway to the landing below and there selected another flight of wooden stairs.

“We must be going down to the first floor now,” Floretta observed, as they cautiously descended.

“Watch out for the step,” Nancy, who was ahead, called out in warning. “There’s another broken one just ahead.”

The three avoided the hole in the flooring and continued down the staircase. At last, Nancy came to the end of the passage, but to her surprise could find no hidden panel. In vain she flashed her candle about over the walls and Floretta and Rosemary aided in the search.

“That’s funny,” Nancy murmured in perplexity. “I’m sure there must be an opening here somewhere.”

She glanced anxiously at her candle. It would not last many more minutes, and unless she wished to be plunged into darkness, she must return to the kitchen for another supply. Floretta and Rosemary had used the last of their stock.

The passage at this particular place was very narrow and so low that a person could not stand upright without striking the top wall.

Tiring of the stooped position which she had been forced to endure for several minutes, Nancy straightened. Her head struck the top of the passageway.

“Ouch!” she exclaimed.

To her astonishment, she heard a strange clicking noise.

“I believe I’ve discovered the panel,” she cried eagerly.

While Rosemary held the candle, she examined ceiling overhead and pushed upon it with all her strength. To her surprise, the wall gave way easily and lifted up.

Nancy pushed the obstruction out of the way and thrust her head and shoulders through the opening. Curiously, she gazed about. She had come up through the sofa seat in the library!

“My word!” she exclaimed. “No wonder I never found the secret panel in this room. Who would have thought of looking in the sofa!”

She pulled herself up through the opening and then assisted Floretta and Rosemary, who were less athletic.

“Mercy! What next?” Floretta gasped as she sank down into a chair and tried to regain her breath.

“Imagine living in this house all these years and never discovering anything wrong with that sofa!” Rosemary commented.

“I see everything now,” Nancy said slowly. “That broken step just before we came to the opening. Nathan must have fallen and cried out in alarm. And I feel certain there must be another opening in the sofa in the drawing room. I’m going to find out!”

Darting into the next room, she jerked the cushions from the sofa and lifted the base boards. As she had suspected, there was an opening similar to the one in the library, which was just large enough for a person to squeeze through.

“That’s how Nathan stole the silver urn,” Floretta observed. “He came up through the sofa seat in the library!”

“How stupid of me not to think of looking there before,” Nancy said.

“Stupid? I think you’ve done extremely clever detective work, as it is. Why, we’ve lived here for years and never dreamed of a hidden staircase. How shall we ever repay you for all you have done?”

“Oh, let’s not think about that now,” Nancy said hastily, glancing at her watch. “There’s so much yet to be done. We must bring Nathan Gombet to justice if we can!”

“I agree with you there,” Floretta cried feelingly. “Go and call the police! We want him locked up!”

Nancy started toward the door.

“If he has an inkling of what we have discovered, he’ll try to escape,” she threw back over her shoulder.

She hurried to the garage at the rear of the house and quickly backed her roadster out upon the drive. Rosemary and Floretta, not to be left behind, crowded in beside her.

“Oh, do you think the police will be able to capture him?” Floretta asked tremulously. “I’ll never feel safe again until I know he’s behind prison bars.”

“I’m afraid we shouldn’t have taken the time we did to investigate those passages,” Nancy returned quietly. “But I wanted to be absolutely certain that Nathan Gombet was guilty before I turned him over to the authorities.”

With that she shifted gears, and the car roared down the Cliffwood road to disappear in a cloud of dust.