Page:Braddon--Wyllard's weird.djvu/180

172 Wyllard had worked, the large shaded lamp which had lighted his evening toil. Mr. Blümenlein showed these things with pride. Nothing had been altered.

"I am a man of somewhat studious habits, like Mr. Wyllard," he said, "and I often work late into the night. This room is a delightful room, for none of the noises of Paris penetrate here. The court is very little used after dark—a passing footstep, perhaps, once in half an hour. It is an almost monastic repose."

The bed was in an alcove in a corner, entirely shrouded by brown damask curtains like those which draped the windows.

"There is a door leading into the court, I see," said Heathcote, whose keen eyes had scrutinised every feature of the room.

"What, you have perceived that!" exclaimed Mr. Blümenlein, with marked surprise. "I thought it was quite hidden by the curtains."

"No, the top of the upper hinge is just visible above the curtain-rod."

"Strange! No one ever before noticed that door."

"It is not a secret door, I suppose?" said Heathcote.

"Certainly not. But it has never been used in my time, and I doubt if Mr. Wyllard made much use of it," said Mr. Blümenlein, drawing back the curtain. "The bed stood in his time just where it stands now, with the head against the door."

"The bedstead is light enough to be moved easily if the door were wanted," suggested Heathcote.

It was a small brass bedstead of English make. The voluminous curtains made a kind of tent, independent of the bedstead.

"No doubt it could," replied Blümenlein, "but I fancy it could have been no more wanted in Mr. Wyllard's time than it has been in mine. It may have been made by some former inhabitant of these rooms, who wanted free egress and ingress at any hour of the night, without exciting the curiosity of the porter."

"You conclude, then, that the door was an after-thought," said Heathcote, "and not in the original plan of the house."

"Decidedly. You will see how ruthlessly it has been cut through dado and mouldings. An after-thought evidently."

Mr. Blümenlein pulled aside the bedstead and showed Mr. Heathcote the door. It was a low narrow door, of plain oak, without panelling or ornamentation of any kind. The fastening was a latch-lock, a Bramah, with a small key, and a strong bolt secured the door on the inner side.

"A convenient door, no doubt," said Heathcote, "for a person of secret habits."

Dora looked lingeringly round the room. Its gloom op-