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"Where do you suppose this leads?" Louise gasped.
"Maybe to the house," Penny speculated. "I know lots of these old places had escapes made so that in time of war or Indian attacks, the householders could get away. Never heard of a tunnel opening into a well though!"
The bricked pa.s.sageway was so low that for the first twelve feet the girls were forced to crawl on hands and knees. Gradually, the tunnel deepened until they were able to walk in a stooped position.
"We're coming to the end of it," Penny presently announced.
Directly in front of her was a heavy door which showed the effects of age. It did not move easily, but together, the girls were able to swing it open.
"Where in the world are we?" Louise murmured in perplexity.
Penny flashed her light directly ahead. A series of four steps led down from the tunnel into an empty room which barely was six feet across. So far as she could see it had no exit.
"It looks as if we're at the end of the trail," Louise remarked in disappointment.
"This must be part of the Marborough house," Penny declared, descending the steps into the tiny room.
"But there's no way out of it except through the tunnel!"
"There must be if we can find it," Penny insisted.
Wandering about the room she began to explore the walls, and Louise followed her example. Their search was rewarded, for presently they discovered a small bra.s.s k.n.o.b embedded in the rough board paneling. Penny pulled on it and a section of wall slid back.
"Now we're really in the Marborough house!" she whispered excitedly. "The bas.e.m.e.nt, I think."
Stepping through the opening, the girls made no sound as they tiptoed around in the dark, damp room. Penny's flashlight revealed that the walls had been boarded over, but there was no solid foundation beneath their feet, only a hard dirt floor. A steep stairway led up from the bas.e.m.e.nt.
"Do you suppose Mrs. Marborough is here?" Penny whispered, listening.
There was no sound from above.
"Shall we go upstairs, or back the way we came?" she asked her chum.
"Let's risk being caught," Louise decided after a moment's hesitation.
"I'd rather be sent to jail for house breaking than to climb into that well again."
Huddling together, the girls crept up the stairway. The landing was blocked by another door. Penny tested it, and finding it unlocked, pushed it gently open. Again they listened.
"The coast is clear," Louise whispered. "I'm sure Mrs. Marborough isn't here."
Penny stepped across the threshold, tense with antic.i.p.ation. Ever since Mrs. Marborough's arrival in Riverview she had longed to see the interior of the grand old mansion. And now, through a strange quirk of adventure, her ambition was to be gratified.
Slowly she allowed the flashlight beam to play over the walls of the room. There were several pictures in ma.s.sive gold frames, leading her to think that she had entered a library or living room. Systematically, she continued to move the light about in search of furniture. So far as she could see there was none.
"The room is empty!" Louise whispered at her elbow.
A board squeaked beneath their weight as the girls tiptoed to a doorway opening into a still larger room.
"This must be the living room," Penny decided, observing a beautiful, circular stairway which rose to the second floor.
"But where is the furniture?" demanded Louise in bewilderment.
Penny's light cut squares across the room, but the only objects revealed were a chair and a table drawn close to the fireplace.
"What can this mean?" Louise gasped. "The house always has been furnished. Now everything is gone."
Penny did not answer. The sound of shuffling feet on the front porch caused both girls to freeze against the wall. Before they could retreat to the bas.e.m.e.nt stairs, the living room door opened. Light from a street lamp cut a path across the bare floor.
Mrs. Marborough stood framed in the doorway. The girls had made no sound, yet the mistress of Rose Acres seemed to sense that she was not alone.
"Who is it?" she called sharply. "Speak up! Who is hiding here?"
CHAPTER 17 _THE MARBOROUGH PEARLS_
In frightened voices Penny and Louise acknowledged their presence in the dark room. Greatly relieved that the intruders were girls, Mrs.
Marborough struck a match and lighted three half-burned candles which were set in a huge gla.s.s candelabra.
"Oh, so it's you!" she exclaimed as the flickering light fell upon their faces. "May I ask why you have broken into my house?"
"We're thoroughly ashamed of ourselves, Mrs. Marborough," Penny said apologetically.
"Indeed we are," added Louise. "When we started to investigate the wis.h.i.+ng well we didn't intend to enter the house."
"Suppose you explain," suggested the mistress of Rose Acres.
"It's a long story," sighed Penny. "May we sit down somewhere?"
The request embarra.s.sed Mrs. Marborough. She hesitated, and then indicated that the girls were to follow her. To their surprise she led them through another empty room to the kitchen, there lighting a candle.
Its soft illumination revealed an old oil stove, several chairs, a porcelain table and a cot which obviously served both as a day couch and bed.
Mrs. Marborough offered no explanation or apology. Taking wood from a box, she piled it into the fireplace, and soon had a cheerful blaze on the hearth.
Drawing their chairs to the fire, Penny and Louise explained how they had entered the old mansion. Mrs. Marborough listened attentively to their story but did not appear especially surprised.
"I've always known about that old tunnel," she said when they had finished. "It was built by the first owner of this house, many, many years ago, and I doubt if it ever was used. I tried to find the entrance from the bas.e.m.e.nt a few days ago, but was unable to locate it."
"We saw you with your lantern at the wis.h.i.+ng well," Louise confessed.
"That was what aroused our curiosity."
"I was looking for the other tunnel entrance. I found it without much trouble, but it was so deep down in the well that I dared not risk trying to get into it. Although I considered hiring a man, I hesitated, because I knew it would cause talk."
Penny and Louise were feeling much more at ease, sensing that the mistress of Rose Acres no longer was irritated by their actions. Eagerly they waited for her to reveal more.
"I suppose you think me a queer old lady," Mrs. Marborough resumed.
"Perhaps I am, but I have a very good reason for some of the things I do.