drawing.

At one point in the drawing a peculiar protuberance was marked.
Kennedy was evidently hunting for that. He found it at last and
pressed the sort of lever in several ways. Nothing seemed to
happen. But finally, almost by chance, he seemed to discover the
secret.

A small section at the side of the fireplace opened up, disclosing
an iron ladder, leading down into one of those characteristic
hiding-places in which the Clutching Hand used to delight.

Kennedy looked at the mysterious opening some time, as if trying
to fathom the mystery.

"Let's go down and explore it," I suggested, taking a step toward
the ladder.

Kennedy reached out and pulled me back. Then without a word he
pressed the little lever and the door closed.

"I think we'd better wait a while, Walter," he decided. "I would
rather hear Aunt Tabby's haunts myself."

He carefully went over not only the rest of the house but the
grounds about it, without discovering anything.

Aunt Tabby, with true country hospitality, seemed unable to
receive guests without feeding them, and, although we had had a
big dinner at a famous road-house on the way out, still none of us