So sudden was their descent that Lindsay and Cicely had no time even to cry out. They evidently had not fallen far, and though for a moment they both thought they were killed, they soon found that beyond a few bruises neither was hurt. They picked themselves up in a state of bewilderment, and stared around them as if hardly realizing yet what had happened.

They were in a little low chamber about eight feet square. The walls were of unpolished oak timbers, roughly plastered in between, and the floor also was of oak beams. In one corner there was a tiny window, covered with a mass of cobwebs, through which nevertheless came sufficient light to enable them to see their surroundings. The trapdoor in the ceiling, through which they had dropped so unexpectedly, must have worked on a swivel, for it had righted itself again, and was once more closed above them.

Still half-dazed, the girls stood for a moment trying to recover their scattered wits, too shaken and amazed even to speak.

"Well!" exclaimed Lindsay at last, with a volume of meaning in the monosyllable.

"This is a house of surprises!" cried Cicely.

"Where are we?"

"How can I tell?"

"We seemed to tumble through the bottom of the settle."

"Yes, after you gave that great lurch to your end."

"We must be in another secret hiding-place."

"Then I vote we hunt about, and see what's in it."

One side of the small room was completely filled, as high as the ceiling, with a pile of boxes. They seemed a very miscellaneous collection. There were ancient hair trunks, such as were in use seventy or eighty years ago, made of wood covered with cow hide, with the hair left on; there were leather portmanteaux with strong brass corners, tin trunks, and even plain wooden packing-cases. On the floor, and leaning against the boxes, stood a row of fair-sized linen bags, and a couple of larger sacks.

It seemed to the girls as if they must have penetrated to some forgotten lumber room. Everything was thickly covered with the accumulated dirt and cobwebs of years. They could have written their names in the dust. As if she were moving in a dream, Lindsay stooped, and picked up one of the linen bags.

"How heavy it is!" she said. "I wonder what's inside?"

"It feels like something hard," replied Cicely, pinching it critically with her finger and thumb.

The mouth was secured by a cord, and Lindsay fumbled long trying to untie the knot.

"Oh! don't bother over it; here's my penknife," cried Cicely, waxing impatient.

In another moment she had cut the string, and a shower of golden sovereigns came pouring out on to the floor. The two girls looked at each other, with faces that were almost awe-stricken.

"Cicely!" said Lindsay solemnly. "I verily believe we have found Sir Giles's fortune!"

A further examination established the matter beyond any doubt. The bags were filled to the brim with gold pieces. In a state of intense excitement the girls continued their investigations. The two large sacks contained salvers, tankards, and goblets, dull and tarnished indeed, but unmistakably of silver. It was difficult to get at the boxes, but they managed to clamber up and open one at the top of the pile, disclosing more silver articles and some ornaments of gold.

"Don't let us pull out too many things, or we shan't be able to stuff them back again," said Cicely, trying to close the lid of the overflowing hair trunk.

"No doubt these underneath are filled with money or jewels," said Lindsay rapturously.

"This little box seems made of silver," remarked Cicely, taking up a small antique casket that specially claimed her attention. Its sides were beautifully chased in classic designs, and it bore the Courtenay arms on the lid.

"It's full of pieces of paper, with figures on them," she continued.

"Let me look!" cried Lindsay. "Why, don't you see?—they're bank notes!"

They were certainly in the midst of treasures. The extent of Sir Giles's hoard had evidently not been exaggerated. At the bottom of the casket lay a letter addressed:

"TO MY GREAT-NIECE MONICA COURTENAY."

"The writing on the envelope is exactly the same as in the Floral Calendar," said Cicely. "I remember those funny flourishes, and the 'a's' not closed at the top."

"So it is; I should know the sprawling look of it anywhere."

"It's such funny, old-fashioned writing, as if it were done with a quill pen. I think we had better put this away again."

Lindsay replaced the letter carefully with the bank notes inside the silver box.

"Then Sir Giles did intend the enigma for a guide," she observed. "The last lines were right.

'... you'll see 'tis a matter
Perchance may provide you with just a lost link,
And bring you a greater reward than you think.'"

"And the settle concealed the legacy after all!"

"Yes, a great deal more safely than we supposed."

"I never imagined the treasure would be in a place like this, all stowed away in old boxes! I thought we should press a secret spring, and a panel would fly open in the wall, and then we should see money and jewels lying together in a big heap!"

"I don't mind how we've found it, so long as it's here."

"Still, it's a surprise!"

"It will be a splendid surprise for Monica. This is actually her very own."

"She would have been content with a hundred guineas, and there are more than a hundred guineas here," said Cicely, letting some of the sovereigns slide through her fingers with a sigh of satisfaction.

"She ought to know about it at once," returned Lindsay. "If you can tear yourself away from these money bags, we'd better be thinking of going."

"Yes, I suppose it's time we went back. By the by, how are we to get out of this place?"

Ah! How to go back?—that was the question! The trapdoor had shut itself high above their heads.

"I expect if we stand on one of the boxes, we can push it up!" said Lindsay.

With much difficulty they dragged a heavy chest across the floor and climbed upon it. It was a fruitless effort. However hard they might try, the trapdoor would not budge an inch.

"There may be a secret spring," faltered Cicely, feeling in every direction to find some bolt or knob, but all in vain. Then the horrible truth broke upon them. They were locked up as securely as the legacy!

"What are we to do?"

Lindsay's pink cheeks were white with alarm.

"Let us call. Perhaps the girls are hunting for us still in the passage, and they may hear."

Both shouted until they were hoarse, yet there was no reply. This was indeed hide-and-seek with a vengeance. Their game had turned out more than they had bargained for.

"I'll bang on the ceiling. It may sound louder than calling," said Lindsay. "The girls must have given us up, and gone downstairs, for nobody seems to hear," she continued, after belabouring the trapdoor for several minutes.

"Perhaps they're at tea," suggested Cicely.

They examined the little window in the corner, but the fastenings were so rusty from long disuse that, tug as they would, they could not open it. They wiped away the dust and cobwebs from it, and peeped out.

"If it overlooks the garden, we could smash the glass and wave a handkerchief, at any rate," proposed Lindsay. "Scott would be almost sure to notice it, even if nobody else were out in the rain."

Alas! the window appeared to be securely hidden away among the gables, and absolutely out of sight from below.

"Would it be possible to crawl on to the roof?"

Lindsay shook her head in reply. The frame was too small for even the slim Cicely to squeeze through. The girls sat down and surveyed the piles of treasure around them with dismay. If they had required a sermon on the vanity of riches, it was there without any need of words.

"We can't eat bank notes, nor sleep on beds of sovereigns," remarked Lindsay at last.

"We may be shut up here for days and days before they find us," said Cicely blankly.

"They'll miss us directly, of course; but they won't know where to look. Even if they peeped inside the settle, they wouldn't be any the wiser."

"Do you remember the piece of poetry we read last week about Ginevra? She hid inside a chest on her wedding day, when they were playing hide-and-seek, and the lid snapped with a spring lock. They never found her—only her bones, years afterwards!"

"Don't talk of such horrible things."

"How long does it take people to starve?" continued Cicely in a tremulous voice.

"About ten days, I believe. They grow gradually weaker and weaker."

Cicely groaned.

"There isn't anything to drink either, and I'm getting so thirsty," she said, her eyes filling with tears.

"We must try again," declared Lindsay, jumping up. "Let us pull out another trunk, and manage to lift it on to the chest. I believe if I were nearer the ceiling I should be able to push harder."

The boxes were arranged in a rather random fashion, so that as the girls dragged one from the bottom, the whole pile came tumbling down in confusion. They had to jump aside to avoid being hurt. When the upset was over, Cicely pointed silently to the wall opposite. In the part which before had been hidden was a small, low door. Here, surely, was a chance of escape.

They scrambled over the packing-cases and trunks without troubling to look inside them, though some had burst open in the fall. To find a way out seemed at present far more important than more silver tankards and salvers.

Was this exit also secured? With trembling hands Lindsay raised the latch. To her intense relief the door opened, showing a very narrow, unlighted passage.

After their experience in the garret it was not encouraging to find themselves once more obliged to explore in the dark, but there seemed nothing else to be done.

"It must lead somewhere," said Cicely. "I'd rather go anywhere than stay here."

"We'd better step carefully, in case the floor is as rotten as it was in the other place," cautioned Lindsay. The passage smelled dank and close. The air in it had probably been unstirred for many years. The faint light which entered it from the treasure room was soon lost, and they were obliged to grope their way by feeling along the walls. On and on they went for what appeared to be a considerable distance, sometimes turning sharp corners, and sometimes going up or down rickety steps.

"It must run half round the house," said Cicely. "Shall we never get to the end?"

Suddenly Lindsay, who was walking first, came to a halt.

"I can't go any farther," she faltered; "there's a wall in front."

The poor girls were almost in despair. They had been so confident that the passage would surely be taking them to the outer world; to find themselves once more at a full stop was a terrible blow.

"Must we go all that dreadful long way back?" wailed Cicely.

"I expect there is some door that we've passed without knowing it," replied Lindsay, rather chokily.

"Then we can never find it in the dark. It's no use. We shall both starve to death here, and they'll discover our skeletons a hundred years afterwards."

Cicely had utterly broken down, and was sobbing bitterly.

"We won't give up too soon," said Lindsay, whose sturdy courage stood her in good stead on this occasion.

She had been feeling about here and there on the blank wall that faced them, and her fingers at last encountered something that seemed like a sliding bolt. She pushed it back eagerly. A door opened outwards, letting in a blaze of light. To their utter amazement they were gazing down into the picture gallery!

It did not take them many seconds to spring to the floor and turn round to look through what aperture they had made their escape. It was the portrait of Monica Courtenay that formed the secret exit. It had swung out, frame and all, into the gallery, and appeared to be fitted with hinges so as to close and unclose quite easily.

"Now I see why the picture shook in its frame that day!" exclaimed Cicely. "I wonder we never thought of this before."

"And of course that was why she was supposed to guard the fortunes of the Courtenays. No doubt they always kept their valuables in this hiding-place, and only the head of the family would know the way to it."

"So old sayings do generally mean something, and aren't just nonsense."

"Let us go and tell at once. Everybody'll be wondering where we are. They must be doing prep. now, and Miss Russell will be sitting with the first class."

The headmistress's tranquil demeanour was not usually easily ruffled, but she sprang up in excitement as her two missing pupils burst into the library proclaiming the glorious news.

"Lindsay and Cicely! Where have you been? I was growing most uneasy at your absence. You say you have actually found Sir Giles's treasure? It is hardly to be credited. Girls, girls, try to calm yourselves and give me an intelligible account!" as first one and then the other took up the tale in disjointed sentences.

"We played hide-and-seek—and fell through the bottom of the settle—there were great bags of gold—and boxes of silver things and bank notes—won't she be rich? And he'd written it in an enigma—we thought we were going to starve there like Ginevra—and we climbed down through the portrait—oh, may we go and tell Monica about it now?"

"This is indeed a most extraordinary discovery," said Miss Russell, when at length she had drawn from them a more lucid statement of affairs. "Monica must certainly know, but no one is to tell her except myself. I will go down presently to the cottage and see her, and warn her to break the news very gently to her mother. If Mrs. Courtenay were to hear of it suddenly, the shock might be exceedingly dangerous, in her weak state of health."

The news that something of great importance had happened seemed to spread like wildfire through the school. Both teachers and pupils, abandoning their books, came crowding into the library to hear particulars. Even the servants hurried to the spot.

"Oh, bless you, bless you!" cried Mrs. Wilson, who had pushed her way among the girls to the central source of information. "This is indeed a day of rejoicing—a day to remember and give thanks for to the end of one's life!"

Lindsay and Cicely stared at her in amazement. Was it actually "The Griffin" who was speaking? And were those tears that were trickling down her hard cheeks? What did it mean? Was she acting a part? Or had they after all misjudged her? There was no time then for either surmises or explanations. They were the heroines of the hour, and had to repeat their story afresh to those who had not yet heard it at first hand.

"We couldn't imagine where you were hidden," said Marjorie Butler. "We were hunting in the picture gallery for ever so long. Beryl peeped inside the settle, and said it was empty."

"We were still more puzzled when you didn't turn up for tea," said Nora Proctor. "Do tell us again about the bags of money!"

Miss Russell, however, thinking the excitement had lasted long enough, interfered and put a stop to the recital.

"Everybody must go back to preparation at once," she decreed. "Lindsay and Cicely have had no tea. Are you hungry?" she added, turning to the adventurous pair.

"Starving," they replied laconically.

"Then I will excuse your preparation to-night, and you may come with me to the dining-room. It would be rather hard to expect you to set to work upon lessons immediately after such an experience."