Sir Dominick Ferrand | Page 9

immediately, and then the young man, who had at the
same instant found his envelope and ejaculated "Hallo, this thing has a
false back!" jumped up and secured his visitor, whom with his left arm
he held in durance on his knee while with his free hand he addressed
the missive to Mrs. Ryves.
As Sidney was fond of errands he was easily got rid of, and after he had
gone Baron stood a moment at the window chinking pennies and keys
in pockets and wondering if the charming composer would think his
song as good, or in other words as bad, as he thought it. His eyes as he
turned away fell on the wooden back of the davenport, where, to his
regret, the traces of Sidney's assault were visible in three or four ugly
scratches. "Confound the little brute!" he exclaimed, feeling as if an
altar had been desecrated. He was reminded, however, of the
observation this outrage had led him to make, and, for further assurance,
he knocked on the wood with his knuckle. It sounded from that position
commonplace enough, but his suspicion was strongly confirmed when,
again standing beside the desk, he put his head beneath the lifted lid
and gave ear while with an extended arm he tapped sharply in the same
place. The back was distinctly hollow; there was a space between the
inner and the outer pieces (he could measure it), so wide that he was a
fool not to have noticed it before. The depth of the receptacle from
front to rear was so great that it could sacrifice a certain quantity of
room without detection. The sacrifice could of course only be for a
purpose, and the purpose could only be the creation of a secret
compartment. Peter Baron was still boy enough to be thrilled by the
idea of such a feature, the more so as every indication of it had been
cleverly concealed. The people at the shop had never noticed it, else
they would have called his attention to it as an enhancement of value.

His legendary lore instructed him that where there was a hiding-place
there was always a hidden spring, and he pried and pressed and
fumbled in an eager search for the sensitive spot. The article was really
a wonder of neat construction; everything fitted with a closeness that
completely saved appearances.
It took Baron some minutes to pursue his inquiry, during which he
reflected that the people of the shop were not such fools after all. They
had admitted moreover that they had accidentally neglected this relic of
gentility--it had been overlooked in the multiplicity of their treasures.
He now recalled that the man had wanted to polish it up before sending
it home, and that, satisfied for his own part with its honourable
appearance and averse in general to shiny furniture, he had in his
impatience declined to wait for such an operation, so that the object had
left the place for Jersey Villas, carrying presumably its secret with it,
two or three hours after his visit. This secret it seemed indeed capable
of keeping; there was an absurdity in being baffled, but Peter couldn't
find the spring. He thumped and sounded, he listened and measured
again; he inspected every joint and crevice, with the effect of becoming
surer still of the existence of a chamber and of making up his mind that
his davenport was a rarity. Not only was there a compartment between
the two backs, but there was distinctly something IN the compartment!
Perhaps it was a lost manuscript--a nice, safe, old-fashioned story that
Mr. Locket wouldn't object to. Peter returned to the charge, for it had
occurred to him that he had perhaps not sufficiently visited the small
drawers, of which, in two vertical rows, there were six in number, of
different sizes, inserted sideways into that portion of the structure
which formed part of the support of the desk. He took them out again
and examined more minutely the condition of their sockets, with the
happy result of discovering at last, in the place into which the third on
the left-hand row was fitted, a small sliding panel. Behind the panel
was a spring, like a flat button, which yielded with a click when he
pressed it and which instantly produced a loosening of one of the pieces
of the shelf forming the highest part of the davenport--pieces adjusted
to each other with the most deceptive closeness.
This particular piece proved to be, in its turn, a sliding panel, which,
when pushed, revealed the existence of a smaller receptacle, a narrow,
oblong box, in the false back. Its capacity was limited, but if it couldn't

hold many things it might hold precious ones. Baron, in presence of the
ingenuity