I sent Johnson after more varnish. Also, I secured several other
fluids, including water, milk, ink, and machine oil. And when the
painter returned we proceeded with a very thorough test indeed.

Presently it became clear that we were dealing with a phenomenon
of the Blind Spot. All told, we poured about nine pints of liquid
into an area of about twenty square inches; all on the outer
surface, for the split side would absorb nothing. And to all
appearances we might have continued to pour indefinitely.

Ten minutes later I went down into the basement to dispose of some
rubbish. (Charlotte didn't know of this defection in our
housekeeping.) It was bright sunlight outside. Thanks to the
basement windows, I needed no artificial luminant. And when my
gaze rested upon the ground directly under the parlour, I saw
something there that I most certainly had never noticed before.

The fact is, the basement at 288 Chatterton Place never did
possess anything worthy of special notice. Except for the
partition which Harry Wendel and Jerome, the detective, were the
first in years to penetrate--except for that secret doorway, there
was nothing down there to attract attention. To be sure, there was
a quantity of up-turned earth, the result of Jerome's vigorous
efforts to see whether or not there was any connection between the
Blind Spot phenomena which he had witnessed and the cellar. He had
secured nothing but an appetite for all his digging.

However, it was still too dark for me to identify what I saw at
once. I stood for a few moments, accustoming my eyes to the light.
Except that the thing gleamed oddly like a piece of glass, and