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When I awoke from my short and troubled sleep, I found the house most peculiarly empty. Many of the servants were given the day off, and apparently the old Mr. Loffemoore was absent and expected to remain so until the hour of five in the afternoon. With the old gentleman gone, his drawing room would most certainly be empty, and I intended to use this advantage to test out a growing theory of mine. Although, when I passed the drawing room door, a manservant by the name of Luther was standing, quite vigilantly, in the doorway. It was clear that had been placed there as a guard of sorts, and as he was a large, burly fellow who tended to use his fists more than his tongue, I decided to bide my time for the present. Ms. Thuman, I soon discovered, was still in the house, with which I was very pleased. In a spare moment from her duties, I made known to her my intentions of entering the gentleman's private drawing room. I am afraid she thought me quite illogical.
“That is absurd, Mr. Vincent. I've already examined the fireplace, and I told you, it is quite ordinary.” she insisted “Dearest Vi-sir” she turned quite red, but continued, “I would beg you not to make more of my silly thoughts than they deserve.” I sighed,
“Might you, out of the kind nature of your heart, indulge me in one last favor?” I pleaded. It was a rather manipulative move, as I knew she would oblige because of her affections, and I would not have done it if I had no been so sure of the urgency involved. Although her voice was reluctant, her eyes were shining with joy, and she agreed. In the few moments following, I was hiding breathlessly behind a corner while Miss Patricia coaxed and flattered Luther by turns, gradually luring him away from his post, if only for a few seconds. I would then sneak into the study and examine it at my leisure, while making my escape out one of the windows. Closing the door quietly behind me, while slipping the key into my waist-coat pocket, I surveyed the room. It remained as ornately ordinary as it had always been, and I saw nothing changed or out of place. My footfalls were silenced by the thick, red carpet as I approached the massive marble fireplace. The heavy iron grating proved a challenge to move noiselessly, but after a few minutes, the menacing hulk of metal stood defenselessly at one side. The over cast weather and thick drapes hardly helped the ambiance, and the mouth of the fireplace looked more dark and sinister than usual. Drawing my pistol out of my coat pocket, I silently praised my luck on bringing it with me to the Manor. I paused, crouching in front of the fireplace, almost expecting something to leap out of it. Eery muscle in me was tense as I inched forward into the yawning gray-black abyss. I forced my eyes to remain open and found myself in the chalky center of the fireplace. It was, as Ms. Thuman had said, completely ordinary. I was lined in by brick walls on three sides, stained black from use. I ran my fingers over the bricks, but I found nothing worthy of noticing. The wind whistled down the chimney and I peered up the long tall shaft. The chimney was, in fact, really quite large, and if I was of smaller build and more daring, I could have climbed it quite easily. The bricks were large, jutting out to provide fairly good footholds, and the whole chimney was wide enough to fit in. In fact, I found I could stand straight up and have at least eight inches to spare on either side. Whilst I was standing thus, peering up into the chimney, I spied a small chain, slightly beyond eye level. It had been small and adequately high enough to escape my notice until now. I tightened the grip on my gun as I lightly tugged on the chain, but needlessly, for nothing occurred. I exerted more force the second time, and was rewarded with a groaning creak. My heart flurried and my thoughts scattered as the back wall of the fireplace steadily swing open to reveal a dark hole. I waited breathlessly, rooted to the spot with a concoction of fear and anticipation. Thrusting my pistol out in front of me, my feet moved of their own accord towards the menacing, dark entrance. When I stood in front of it, I felt cool air rushing towards my face, carrying the dank smell of mildew and must. I squeezed my eyes shut while I took my first step into the mouth of the wall. The result was that I tripped over an object and fell to the damp floor. It gave me quite a start and I dropped my gun in surprise. I groped around me for my weapon, but my hands found a lantern instead. Thankfully, I had a matchbox on my person, and soon the lantern's light glowed dimly through the room. I stood up, and the ceiling grazed the top of my head. I looked at the wall I had moved, and it dawned on me that it was only a thin layer of plaster and wood slats painted to look like brick. It was quite a small room, bare and almost completely unfurnished. There was a small, quite ragged cot in one corner, a crude desk in the other, and except for a few candles scattered about and the lantern I was currently holding, there was nothing else in the room. It was empty. I scanned the mildewed walls, looking for signs of some other entrance or exit, but I could find nothing. I had no way of knowing if this chamber had been in use any time at all recently. As I peered about the room, striving to obtain any new knowledge at all, I noticed a small stump of a candle pooled on the floor beneath my feet, and I stooped down to touch the wax. It was still slightly warm and pliable. I stood up with a start, realizing that I had lost track of time. A cold gust of wind shrieked down the chimney and reminded me of where I was. I closed up the wall quite hurriedly, since I was now in a rush to leave the place as quickly as possible. I crawled through the fireplace, wincing at even the dim light of the drawing room. The room looked too ordinary, maintained, and utilitarian after what I had seen, and I became disgusted with the room's disguise of apparent normalcy. It remained completely unchanged and composed as I crawled out a tall window and into the frigid November weather.