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Renforth studied the passage. “Or a concealed space between them. The older portions of houses such as this frequently contain passages which do not correspond with the apparent arrangement of the rooms.”

Baines looked towards the last door at the end of the corridor. Its brass handle was noticeably cleaner than those they had already examined. “That room has been opened recently.”

He crossed the remaining distance in three strides. At the end stood a heavier door, its brass handle polished more brightly than those surrounding it. Baines tried the latch and it yielded.

Inside, faded blue silk covered the walls, and a marble fireplace stood beneath a darkened looking glass. Several pieces of furniture remained beneath Holland covers, but the room bore signs of recent occupation. A candle had burned almost to its socket upon a small table, and the dust beside the hearth had been disturbed.

Manners examined the floor. “Someone has been here.”

“Recently,” Renforth added, touching the candle’s blackened wick.

Baines crossed the room, his attention fixed upon the disturbed dust near the fireplace. There were marks upon the floor where something had been dragged or pushed aside, and a narrow section of the panelling appeared cleaner than the wood surrounding it.

He stopped and listened. The knocking came again. This time it was unmistakably close.

“Judith!”

Three rapid blows answered him from somewhere beyond the fireplace. His heart began to pound.

“Judith, can you hear me?”

Another series of knocks followed, but no voice reached him.

“She is here,” Baines said. “Somewhere behind this wall.”

Renforth joined him while Manners examined the opposite side of the chimney breast.

“There must be a concealed opening,” Renforth observed.

Baines crossed to the fireplace. A narrow line interrupted the panelling beside the mantel, scarcely visible beneath the faded paint. He pressed against it, but the wood remained firm.

“There is another door.”

“A priest hole, perhaps,” Manners suggested. “This part of the house is certainly old enough.”

“Then there must be a means of opening it.”

Manners began examining the carved moulding while Baines searched for a catch.

He ran his fingers along the edge of the mantel, pressing each decorative projection in turn. The wood was cold beneath his hands, and several of the carvings had become so worn that their original shapes were difficult to distinguish.

“Judith!” he called again. “If you can hear me, strike the door.”

Three sharp knocks sounded immediately, followed by another series of taps, muffled but unmistakable.

“Judith!” He pressed his ear against the panel.

For one dreadful instant he heard nothing. Then came her voice, faint with distance.

“Baines, is that you?”

Relief struck him with such force that he caught the edge of the mantel to steady himself.

“Judith, where are you?”

“Behind the fireplace. Lady Dunsmore has shut me in.”

Renforth’s expression hardened. “Lady Dunsmore?”