Jane Carter Investigates: Episode Forty-Four
The stairwell opened into what appeared to be an ordinary storage
room scattered with boxes and pieces of broken furniture. Against the east side
of the windowless room stood a row of shabby wardrobes which took up the entire
wall.
On the outside of one of the wardrobes, a dark cloak and a mask
depicting the face of a bird hung from a hook. Someone’s discarded Halloween
costume, I guessed.
It was a small room, and I thought it could not possibly encompass
the whole of the second floor.
On the wall opposite the wardrobes, there was a heavy wooden door
constructed of fresh yellow boards. It was mounted on stout hinges and held
closed from the outside by a heavy bolt.
I whispered to Flo to climb up.
Florence hesitated.
“Close the door at the bottom of the stairs,” I said. “Then, even
if they do come back, it’ll buy us some time, and they’ll not see our
flashlight.”
“Then we’ll be trapped,” Flo protested, but she climbed up anyway.
“Look at those wardrobes,” I said. “Aren’t they spaced exactly as
the four paintings on the east wall of room seven?”
“I believe they are!”
A single bulb hung overhead. I handed the flashlight to Florence
and went in search of a light switch. I found it, and electric light flooded
the room.
I walked to one of the wardrobes and had just started to open it
when Flo said, “Look at this!”
She held up an old cake tin.
“I opened one of the boxes,” she said, “and this was inside.”
From within the tin, she withdrew a tangle of sparkling jewels.
“Loot taken from Mr. Merriweather,” I said, “but the pearls seem
to be missing.”
I opened the door of the wardrobe wide. It was empty except for a
flashlight lying on the floor of it. It didn’t even contain a shelf. The only
thing unusual about it was a small sliding panel, located at eye level, on the
back wall of the wardrobe.
I stepped into the empty wardrobe and slid the panel open.
“Flaming eyes,” I said to myself.
“What are you saying?” demanded Florence.
“Step inside, and you’ll understand,” I said.
Florence took my place.
“There are two small slits cut in the wall which exactly fit my
eyes,” she said. “I can see right into room seven of Old Mansion!”
“No wonder Emma thought that the eyes of those portraits seemed
alive,” I said. “They were.”
Florence emerged from the wardrobe.
“But why didn’t we discover the trick?” she demanded. “I
understand now that Ralph or Violet or some other accomplice could stand here
and see exactly what goes on in room seven, but why did we never notice the
slits in the paintings?”
“Because they took care of that little detail. If you’ll step back
into the wardrobe again, you’ll notice a pair of painted eyes hanging on a
little peg. They were in place, but I removed them.”
“You mean someone fitted canvas eyes into the paintings during the
day time, and then when they wished to use the peepholes, simply removed them?”
“That’s just what I do mean. And did you notice that flashlight
stashed in the corner?”
“Yes, what significance does it have?”
“I’m not sure, but I believe that light shown upward on the
watcher’s face might produce the effect of flaming eyes when viewed at night in
a dark room.”
“But how did Ralph get Mr. Merriweather’s jewels, and the
paintings? He can’t have kidnaped three men through these slits in the canvas!”
“No,” I said, “but the flaming eyes were part of the scheme.
Unless I’m mistaken, we’ll find—”
I broke off. I could hear voices downstairs. I flipped off the
light switch and Florence extinguished the flashlight.
“The other room,” I whispered to Flo.
We felt our way to the opposite wall. I located the latch on the heavy wooden door. The bolt slid back easily.
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