John.

Marcasse having aroused Blaireau by voice and gesture, watched all his
movements.

"Set your mind at rest," he said with pride; "the old dog has not
forgotten his old trade. If there is a hole, a hole as big as your hand,
have no fear. Now, old dog! Have no fear."

Blaireau, indeed, after sniffing everywhere, persisted in scratching the
wall where I had seen the apparition; he would start back every time his
pointed nose came to a certain spot in the wainscotting; then, wagging
his bushy tail with a satisfied air, he would return to his master as if
to tell him to concentrate his attention on this spot. The sergeant then
began to examine the wall and the woodwork; he tried to insinuate his
sword into some crack; there was no sign of an opening. Still, a door
might have been there, for the flowers carved on the woodwork would hide
a skilfully constructed sliding panel. The essential thing was to find
the spring that made this panel work; but that was impossible in spite
of all the efforts we made for two long hours. In vain did we try to
shake the panel; it gave forth the same sound as the others. They were
all sonorous, showing that the wainscot was not in immediate contact
with the masonry. Still, there might be a gap of only a few inches
between them. At last Marcasse, perspiring profusely, stopped, and said
to me:

"This is very stupid; if we searched all night we should not find a
spring if there is none; and however hard we hammered, we could not
break in the door if there happened to be big iron bars behind it, as I
have sometimes seen in other old country-houses."