fifteen feet shorter, and twenty-five feet narrower, _than it ought to
have been_!

Archibald was as far from suspecting it as anybody; indeed, he most likely
never troubled his head about builders' plans in his life. But he thought
a great deal of his great-grandfather's portrait; and since it was so
placed as to be in view of the most comfortable chair before the fire, he
spent many hours of every week gazing at it. What was Sir Charles pointing
at with that left forefinger? And what meant that peculiarly intent and
slightly frowning glance which the painted eyes forever bent upon his own?
Archibald probably had a few of Mrs. Radcliffe's romances along with the
other valuable books on his shelves, and he may have cherished a notion
that a treasure, or an important secret of some sort, was concealed in the
vicinity. Following down the direction of the pointing finger, he found
that it intersected the floor at a spot about five feet to the right of
the side of the fireplace. The floor of the chamber was of solid oak
planking, blackened by age; and it appeared to be no less solid at this
point than at any other. Nevertheless, he thought it would be good fun,
and at all events would do no harm, to cut a hole there, and see what was
underneath. Accordingly, he quietly procured a saw and a hammer and
chisel, and one day, when the family were away from home, he locked
himself into his room, and went to work. The job was not an easy one, the
tough oak wood being almost enough to turn the edge of his chisel, and
there being no purchase at all for the saw. After quarter of an hour's
chipping and hammering, with very little result, he paused to rest. The
board at which he had been working, and which met the wall at right
angles, was very short, not more than eighteen inches long, indeed, being
inserted merely to fill up the gap caused by a deficiency in length of the
plank of which it was the continuation. Between the two adjoining ends was
a crack of some width, and into that crack did Archibald idly stick his