Alfred shook his head.
“You can’t, my lady; Mr. Mosgorovsky, he has the key.”
“Well,” said Bundle, “there are other keys.”
She perceived that the lock was a perfectly ordinary one which probably could be easily unlocked by the key of one of the other doors. Alfred, rather troubled, was sent to collect likely specimens. The fourth that Bundle tried fitted. She turned it, opened the door and passed through.
She found herself in a small, dingy apartment. A long table occupied the centre of the room with chairs ranged round it. There was no other furniture in the room. Two built-in cupboards stood on either side of the fireplace. Alfred indicated the nearer one with a nod.
“That’s it,” he explained.
Bundle tried the cupboard door, but it was locked, and she saw at once that this lock was a very different affair. It was of the patent kind that would only yield to its own key.
“ ’Ighly ingenious, it is,” explained Alfred. “It looks all right when opened. Shelves, you know, with a few ledgers and that on ’em. Nobody’d ever suspect, but you touch the right spot and the whole thing swings open.”
Bundle had turned round and was surveying the room thoughtfully. The first thing she noticed was that the door by which they had entered was carefully fitted round with baize. It must be completely soundproof. Then her eyes wandered to the chairs. There were seven of them, three each side and one rather more imposing in design at the head of the table.
Bundle’s eyes brightened. She had found what she was looking for. This, she felt sure, was the meeting place of the secret organisation. The place