"Say, John, old boy, I've got it! and it's the
most curious old thing ever you saw in your life!"
"Something in analytical geometry, isn't it?" said I, turning round on
my piano-stool.
"Analytical pudding's end! It's a plan of a house, my boy, and, what's
more, of this very house we're in! That's a find, and no mistake! These
are the descriptions and explanations--these bits of writing. It's a
perfect labyrinth of Crete! Udolpho was nothing to it!"
"Well, I suppose it isn't of much value except as a curiosity?"
"Don't be too sure of that, John, my boy! Who knows but there's a
treasure concealed somewhere in this house? or a skeleton in a secret
chamber! This old paper may make our fortune yet!"
"The treasure wouldn't belong to us if we found it; and, besides, we
can't make explorations beyond our own premises, and we know what's in
them already."
"Do we? Did we know what was behind the looking-glass? Did you never
hear of sliding panels, and private passages, and concealed staircases?
Where's your imagination, man? But you don't need imagination--here it
is in black and white!"
As he spoke, he pointed to a part of the plan; but, as I was stooping
to examine it, he seemed to change his mind.
Pages:
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191