strongly confirmed when, again standing beside the desk, he put his
head beneath the lifted lid and gave ear while with an extended arm
he tapped sharply in the same place. The back was distinctly hollow;
there was a space between the inner and the outer pieces (he could
measure it), so wide that he was a fool not to have noticed it
before. The depth of the receptacle from front to rear was so great
that it could sacrifice a certain quantity of room without detection.
The sacrifice could of course only be for a purpose, and the purpose
could only be the creation of a secret compartment. Peter Baron was
still boy enough to be thrilled by the idea of such a feature, the
more so as every indication of it had been cleverly concealed. The
people at the shop had never noticed it, else they would have called
his attention to it as an enhancement of value. His legendary lore
instructed him that where there was a hiding-place there was always a
hidden spring, and he pried and pressed and fumbled in an eager
search for the sensitive spot. The article was really a wonder of
neat construction; everything fitted with a closeness that completely
saved appearances.

It took Baron some minutes to pursue his inquiry, during which he
reflected that the people of the shop were not such fools after all.
They had admitted moreover that they had accidentally neglected this
relic of gentility--it had been overlooked in the multiplicity of
their treasures. He now recalled that the man had wanted to polish
it up before sending it home, and that, satisfied for his own part
with its honourable appearance and averse in general to shiny
furniture, he had in his impatience declined to wait for such an
operation, so that the object had left the place for Jersey Villas,
carrying presumably its secret with it, two or three hours after his
visit. This secret it seemed indeed capable of keeping; there was an