"There now," she said.
It took a moment for their eyes to adjust but, after a few seconds, as they peered into the gloom they were able to just about make out the shape of an old wooden door set back in an alcove in the brick wall. Meg reached out, all but snatched the bunch of keys and pushed the large iron one into the keyhole. There was a satisfying click as the door was unlocked.
"Told you so," she crowed.
"Meg," began Charles, as calmly as he could, "it's really very kind of you to bring us down here but-"
"Oh, don't patronise me!" she snapped, in a rare moment of lucidity. "Do you want to get into my old room or not?"
"Well… yes. Yes, of course we do."
"Well then," and she pointed towards the door, "there's your way in."
Charles glanced with Matthew in the semi-gloom then reached forward and opened the door. It swung inwards noisily on hinges that desperately needed oiling.
"You'll be needing that," said Meg.
They turned and saw her pointing to a shelf a few feet away, on which lay a large battery-operated torch. Charles nodded and picked it up. Pointing it into the darkness he switched it on. The light from the torch revealed a short brick-walled passageway which opened up, after a few feet, into what appeared to be an extensive catacomb. They both gasped in amazement. Although Charles swung the beam of light left and right he was unable to gauge the extent of this vast underground cavern. Pillars supporting the vaulted ceiling stretched away from them in all directions.
Meg called after them, "you'll be alright as long as you walk in a straight line, it's not really very far… at least, I don't think it is… oh, I can't really remember. You need to be on the lookout for a staircase on the far side. Shall I put the kettle on for when you come back?"
The floor of the catacomb was damp and slippery. Water dripped from the ceiling and moss grew on many of the supporting columns. With only the light from the torch to guide them, Charles and Matthew edged forward cautiously, shivering each time another icy droplet fell and began to trickle down their necks.
"Do you really think we're going to find what we're looking for down here?" asked Matthew.
"To be honest, I'm not sure, but for a change Meg seemed pretty convinced that this was the way we needed to go. In any case, just at the moment I don't really have any alternative suggestions. Do you?" Matthew didn't reply. "And anyway," Charles continued, "You should look at this as an educational experience. How often do people ever get the chance to examine such a splendid piece of underground architecture?"
Matthew snorted and they continued their trudge further into the gloom.
Back in Heston Grange, meanwhile, James and Mrs Gillcarey were taking a well earned tea-break before resuming their duties.
"How do you think they're getting on?" asked Mrs Gillcarey.
James took a long gulp of tea. "They are making some progress," he said, "but Mr Seymour told me that at one point he thought he might have heard some rats behind a wall in the library."
Mrs Gillcarey looked at him over the top of her steaming mug and giggled.
After a while, Charles asked, "How far would you say it was when we walked from the house to the lodge?"
"I was just wondering the same thing. Surely we ought to be at least close by now."
"This place is vast! Why would anyone build an underground chamber like this?"
"Well, the sea is close by. Maybe it was used by smugglers in times past."
At length, the torchlight revealed that they were approaching another brick wall. Shining the light along its length they spotted an opening about thirty feet to the right. Their attempt at walking in a straight line through the darkness hadn't been too badly judged. The opening was, in fact, another short passageway, much like the one through which they had entered. After a few feet they found themselves standing at the bottom of a flight of spiral stone steps. Charles shone the torch into the gloom, but could only see the first few steps before the staircase curved away from view.
"I suppose these must be the steps Meg told us about."
"Unless there are other staircases out there in the dark?"
"Don't even think about it. Come on."
They had to tread carefully; the steps were eroded and uneven, so they were forced to ascend slowly. Not only that, but the staircase proved to be a high one. Eventually, their progress was blocked by what appeared to be a trapdoor above them.
"Could this be our journey's end?" wondered Charles aloud as he shone the light upwards.
"One way to find out," said Matthew. "Can you push it open?"
Charles handed the torch to down to Matthew and, with both hands now free, placed his palms against the flat surface above and pushed. Remarkably, it opened quite easily, swinging upwards and away from them on its hinges, reaching a resting position at just past ninety degrees. Without any further word being spoken both men quickly scrambled up and into the darkness beyond.
The illumination from the torch revealed a light switch on the wall and, a moment later, through blinking eyes they saw what they guessed must be the inside of the secret room. All those steps had brought them up to the top floor, under the eaves, so the most immediately eye-catching feature of the room was its shape. The walls sloped inwards, all meeting at a central point and looking rather like-
"It's like the inside of a pyramid!" exclaimed Charles. "What were the words of that poem?
"We must be on the right track then," said Matthew. "Meg was right about the key after all. Do you suppose there's a sphinx of some sort hidden somewhere in here?"
"I presume so, and I guess we need to find it."
The room appeared to contain nothing, except for two items. The first was a large wooden chest placed across one of the room's corners. They stood looking at it for a moment.
"Do you suppose a sphinx might be hiding in there?" asked Charles.
Expecting it to be locked they were delighted to find that it was not, but opening the lid revealed nothing; it was just an empty chest.
"Somehow, I knew it was never going to be that easy," Matthew grumbled.
The second item was a small key which was hanging on a hook by a door. The key fitted the lock and the door opened into the dark corridor where the two of them had stood just a short time ago.
"So not an entirely wasted trip," said Charles, a little sarcastically, "At least we've managed to find the key."
"The poem said that the sphinx was hidden deeply," said Matthew. "Might that mean it's under the floor?"
They began to examine the bare floorboards to see if there was any suggestion of some sort of concealed cavity beneath but, again, their search proved fruitless.
Matthew's feelings of frustration were starting to rise again.
"Damn!" he shouted. "So what are we supposed to do now?"
Charles didn't respond. He was thinking. After a long moment he spoke.
"I wonder how long ago Lord Alfred created this little treasure hunt?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, if he made the film while this room was still occupied by Meg, then the sphinx in the poem could well have been something that was here in this room at that time. He wouldn't necessarily have spent time re-thinking all his carefully constructed clues just because a maid left his employment."
"Are you suggesting that we need to search through that mountain of packing cases in Meg's cellar?"