Although, to be sure, the Webbs had called him in, and he was responsible to them. Nor did it require an abnormally acute mind to discern that the Webbs and Miss Powell were not entirely at one.
This impression of his was deepened when Miss Webb said, severely, “I must beg of you, Elsie, not to disgrace us by any public effort in this distressing matter. We are already sufficiently embarrassed at the unfortunate publicity it has gained, and I want to keep further disclosures entirely to ourselves.”
“Can’t be done, Miss Webb,” said Hanley; “the thing is out,—why, ma’am, it had to come out! And now, you can no more stop the press notice of it than you could dam the Hudson! Better take that part of it calmly, for the papers will be full of it for nine days, at least. Now, ma’am, I’d like to see Mr. Webb’s room.”
Dejectedly, Henrietta Webb led the way. Elsie followed, as a matter of course, and soon Hanley was silently but carefully scrutinizing the furniture, walls and floor of the room in question.
“No exit but the door,—so far as appears on the surface,” he remarked, at last. “You don’t know of any secret entrance, I suppose!”
“Certainly not,” said Henrietta, positively. “Those things occur in old country houses,—not in city homes.”
“Well, we must think of everything,” Hanley said, and he proceeded to tap walls, and partitions in a knowing manner.
“Nope, nothing of that sort,” he concluded, after exhaustive experimenting.
“You’re sure?” asked Elsie, her eyes shining with eagerness. “I had thought there might be something like that.”
“No, ma’am,” declared Hanley; “I know a lot about building, and I can tell for sure and certain, there’s no entrance through these walls of any sort. Why, look at the wall paper,—intact all round. And, not only that, but I can tell by tapping, there’s no chance of a secret door or panel.”
“Mr. Whiting is an architect, and he said the same,” observed Miss Webb, coldly, as if to disparage Hanley’s would-be superior knowledge.
“There, you see!” said Hanley, taking the snub in good part. “If a smart architect and a smart detective agree there’s no secret passage or entrance or exit, you may depend on it there isn’t any.”
“What about the chimney?” asked Elsie. “I’ve thought this all out, you see.”