For half an hour she remained without moving; then, as all continued quiet, she guessed that Miss Penfold, finding the springs did not act, had returned to her room.  She now rose to her feet, drew out her dark lantern, and turned to the wall by her side.  She gave an exclamation of joy—­the stone that she had so long vainly endeavored to move was swung open.  Miss Penfold who of course had the secret, had touched the spring outside before attempting to open the chamber, and the stone, which was set in iron, had swung open on a hinge.  In a moment Mrs. Conway explored the contents.  The closet was about two feet square by nine inches in depth, and contained two shelves.  There were several papers in it, and the very first upon which she placed her hand was marked “The Last Will and Testament of Herbert Penfold.”

So overwhelmed was Mrs. Conway at this termination to her long search that she sank on the ground, and it was some time before she could collect herself sufficiently to consider what was her best course.  It was evident that for some reason Miss Penfold had been about to visit the secret room to see that the will was still in safety.  The failure of the springs to act had, of course, disconcerted her; but she might try again in the morning, and would then be able to enter the room, and would discover that the will was missing.

It was clearly the best course to make off at once.  She remembered now that she had noticed a tiny hole no bigger than a nail-hole in the door, and had found that upon the other side it was just above a row of books in the shelves somewhat lower in height than the rest, and was evidently intended to enable the occupant of the chamber to obtain a view of the library, and see whether that room was occupied.  She applied her eye to it at once, and saw that all was dark.  Concealing the lantern again beneath her coat, she drew back the bolts gently and stepped out.  Then she went to one of the windows, took down the bell, carefully unbarred the shutters, threw up the window and stepped out.

She sped cross the garden, down the drive, and through the gate, and then hurried at the top of her speed toward the village.  She had gone about half the distance when she heard a horse’s footsteps approaching.  The road ran between two high hedges and there was no place for concealment.  She therefore walked along by the edge of the road close to the hedge, hoping that the horseman would pass without noticing her.  His eyes, however, were too much accustomed to the darkness.  He reined in his horse when he came to her, and a moment later the light of a small lantern fell on her face.

“Who are you?” a voice asked, “and where are you going?”

“I am going to the vicarage,” she said, “to see Mr. Withers.”

“A likely story that,” he said.  “What is this?  A woman with a man’s hat and coat!  There is something wrong here,” and leaning down he caught her by the collar.  She saw by the light of his lantern that he was a mounted patrol.