The prospect certainly was not a bright one. The door was fast locked.Escape from the windows seemed impracticable. This apparently exhaustedthe avenues of escape that were open to the dissatisfied prisoner. Butaccidentally Jack made an important discovery.
There was a full-length portrait in the room. Jack chanced to rest hishand against it, when he must unconsciously have touched some secretspring, for a secret door opened, dividing the picture in two parts,and, to our hero's unbounded astonishment, he saw before him a smallspiral staircase leading down into the darkness.
"This is a queer old house!" thought Jack. "I wonder where those stairsgo to. I've a great mind to explore."
There was not much chance of detection, he reflected, as it would bethree hours before his next meal would be brought him. He left the dooropen, therefore, and began slowly and cautiously to go down thestaircase. It seemed a long one, longer than was necessary to connecttwo floors. Boldly Jack kept on till he reached the bottom.
"Where am I?" thought our hero. "I must be down as low as the cellar."
While this thought passed through his mind, voices suddenly struck uponhis ear. He had accustomed himself now to the darkness, and ascertainedthat there was a crevice through which he could look in the directionfrom which the sounds proceeded. Applying his eye, he could distinguisha small cellar apartment, in the middle of which was a printing press,and work was evidently going on. He could distinguish three persons. Twowere in their shirt sleeves, bending over an engraver's bench. Besidethem, and apparently superintending their work, was the old man whomJack knew as Dr. Robinson.
He applied his ear to the crevice, and heard these words:
"This lot is rather better than the last, Jones. We can't be toocareful, or the detectives will interfere with our business. Some of thelast lot were rather coarse."
"I know it, sir," answered the man addressed as Jones.
"There's nothing the matter with this," said the old man. "There isn'tone person in a hundred that would suspect it was not genuine."
Jack pricked up his ears.
Looking through the crevice, he ascertained that it was a bill that theold man had in his hand.
"They're counterfeiters," he said, half audibly.
Low as the tone was, it startled Dr. Robinson.
"Ha!" said he, startled, "what's that?"
"What's what, sir?" said Jones.
"I thought I heard some one speaking."
"I didn't hear nothing, sir."
"Did you hear nothing, Ferguson?"
"No, sir."
"I suppose I was deceived, then," said the old man.
"How many bills have you there?" he resumed.
"Seventy-nine, sir."
"That's a very good day's work," said the old man, in a tone ofsatisfaction. "It's a paying business."
"It pays you, sir," said Jones, grumbling.
"And it shall pay you, too, my man, never fear!"
Jack had made a great discovery. He understood now the connectionbetween Mrs. Hardwick and the old man whom he now knew not to be aphysician. He was at the head of a gang of counterfeiters, and shewas engaged in putting the false money into circulation.
He softly ascended the staircase, and re-entered the room he left,closing the secret door behind him.